


It's all the Little Things

by SoManyDirections



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Band Fic, Corporal Punishment, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Liam Payne, Dom Louis, Dom Niall, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Harry, Sub Zayn, Subdrop, Tour Bus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 09:37:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 47,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyDirections/pseuds/SoManyDirections
Summary: Harry appreciated everything they had. He did. He was grateful for the three years he'd had with One Direction and he wouldn't change it for the world. He loved the boys, loved the fans, loved performing almost every night.He didn't love the lies. He didn't love spending the last year of his life pretending to be something that he wasn't.The whole world believed Harry Styles was a Dom, but Harry had never been that great at lying.





	1. Cat's out the bag

**Author's Note:**

> I think this fandom might be dead, but i really hope not! If you’re out there please feel free to leave a comment and come chat, let’s be proud of our taste in weird stories together. 
> 
> Please do comment and let me know what you think and if there's anything you'd like to see, I do have a lot of this written and the overall plot planned out. But I'm also happy to take oneshot requests within this universe.
> 
> **DISCLAIMER **
> 
> Obviously this is made up. People aren’t real and all that. 
> 
> Furthermore, I have read some amazingly well written BDSM AU’s before, I’ve read some amazing discipline fics and yes they have definitely inspired me to create my own in a fandom I love. I’ve tried to make this as original as possible, but I think it’s only right and fair to always say when it’s a subject you’ve been inspired by from many different sources. 
> 
> I definitely do not believe I have invented Sub drops, the entire Dom/Sub/Switch dynamic here, cuddling to help with the sub drop but I also think that's just a general part of after care in ALL BDSM life, someone hiding their classification (which I've seen as a trope in countless fics and is brilliant in all), the physical affects of a sub drop etc, pills to stop it (or in some fics like ABO etc I think people sometimes use suppressants?). 
> 
> I've tried to add my own laws to the world, but it's fandom and I think originality isn't always going to be a thing. So I'm saying it now that I am not claiming to have re-invented the wheel and there are many writers who have done it better than me. But I thought this fandom and these pairings also deserved one. I think two writers could literally take the exact same prompt or even full on plot and they would be completely different stories because people write differently and I love that. 
> 
> That being said, if this inspires you or any other work like it, PLEASE write it. I'd love to read it and I wouldn't ever be offended to have something similar knocking around. I wrote this because I like to read it and I couldn't find one like it in a fandom I love. So yeah, feel free. 
> 
> Hit me up if you ever want some good recs! 
> 
> **WARNING PLEASE READ **  
This is an AU in which everyone is either a Dom/Sub/Switch. Their biology is different. Therefore, it’s highly unlikely that there will be safe words and other common practice when it comes to issues like discipline. Simply because Doms are _caring_ and can sense what a Sub needs. You will see, Subs have the exact same rights that Doms do, however if a lack of safe wording will trigger you then I implore you to please not read. 
> 
> Punishments are not sexual in nature. 
> 
> Safe words exist for sexual scenes if that is something a couple would participate in. Much like any couple with kinks. 

“You have to tell someone.” Nick’s voice was firm, or as firm as Nick could be anyway. Which wasn’t very but Harry wasn’t going to insult him or anything. Even inside of his own head. 

“I did.” Harry stated simply, following up with a shrug in case Nick was going to get the impression at any point that this was going to be more than a casual conversation. 

“As flattering as it is that you’ve told me your deepest darkest secrets — and believe me it is — I mean all we need now is a sleepover, friendship bracelets and for me to be your top friend on MySpace….” 

“MySpace doesn’t even exist….” Harry mumbled, taking a sip of his tea. 

They might be here for a while. Harry had prepared for that. He’d turned up to Nick’s flat with all of his arguments for this written in his notes app. He’d turned up with tea and custard creams — the fancy kind — and a charming smile that had made Nick instantly suspicious yet reluctantly charmed. 

Harry was very prepared for this conversation. 

“I was making a _reference_ Popstar, now if you’d stop rudely interrupting?” 

“I’m sorry ...continue with your reference” Harry waved his arm, laying his legs over Nick’s as he settled back against the arm of the couch. 

Might as well get comfortable if he was in for a Nick level rant. 

“Well I was done with the reference actually, but _anyway_ — the point I’m making and making well might I add — is that you need to tell someone _other _than me.” Nick eyed him mock sternly, but he rested his none tea drinking hand on Harry’s ankle anyway — so Harry counted it as a win. “Preferably someone who is going to be around on that little thing called a world tour.” 

“Why did you pick MySpace as your reference?” Harry frowned, reaching down the side of the couch for the half eaten packet of Custard creams. 

“We’re done with the reference now, which means we’re also done with all questions pertaining to the reference and any and all possibilities of said reference saying anything at all about my age and your lack of it.” 

“....you’re fine, I _kind_ of remember MySpace.” Harry threw him a bone, even if MySpace had been essentially dead by the time Harry and his mates had been getting into social media. 

No need to point that out when he needed a medium sized favour from the other man. 

“I _kind _of just felt myself get diagnosed with arthritis.” Nick sighed dramatically, taking a sip of tea and Harry simply watched him expectantly. It had been relatively easy so far — probably _too_ easy — he hadn’t even had to get out his notes yet. “Anyway, stop changing the subject. I know what you’re doing.” 

“Look….” Harry sighed, and if a couple of biscuit crumbs escaped from his mouth onto the couch, well that was just a consequence of Nick being dramatic. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. “The rules are I have to have someone registered you know? In case of emergencies and all that.” 

“It can’t be _me!_” 

“Why not?” Harry shrugged, ignoring the way Nick’s hand tightened on his ankle. “They said it wouldn’t be public information….it’s not like, I dunno — the 80s or something — Subs have rights too.” 

“Subs were given those rights in the 50s Harold — please for the sake of my fragile ego — make no more references to decades you never existed in.” 

Harry sighed, munching sullenly on his biscuit as he went over all his prepared arguments in his head. He knew he was asking a lot. He knew that most people didn’t take registering as someone’s Dom Guardian very lightly — but he’d thought with Nick’s habit of not having anything more than casual flings with switches, that he’d be his best bet. 

“Nick….c’mon, you’re the only Dom I know that doesn’t already have a registered Sub.” 

Harry knew that wasn’t necessarily true. But he was the only Dom that was a viable option for this arrangement. The only Dom that wouldn’t interfere or try to actually do the job. That wasn’t what Harry wanted. He hadn’t spent the last year since he turned eighteen pretending to be a Dom just for it all to go tits up because they’d been forced into donating blood as a publicity stunt. 

Modest had been covering up his status since he’d been classified a year ago and Modest had fucked up spectacularly with a public appeal for blood donors the whole band had been part of. It was inevitable after that really, that Harry would have been called in and questioned on why his registration papers had never been filed. 

It had been an easy enough explanation that Modest had provided him with. Wide eyed and dimpled, he’d stumbled his way through terrible lies involving the stress of fame and how he’d thought it had been taken care of. Harry was a terrible liar and he was pretty sure the Switch in the government building hadn’t bought a word of it. But she’d simply handed him some leaflets, information about sub rights and registration being a private thing and warned him in no uncertain terms that he had one week to get the right paperwork in and a Dominant guardian on file. 

There was no law to say that Harry couldn’t be a Dom to the public. There was nothing saying he couldn’t keep pretending — but for his own safety, he had to have at least a Guardian if not a bond to help with his emotional needs. 

“That’s a complete lie.” Nick was rambling on and Harry hoped his face was doing a listening appropriately expression. “There are exactly _three_ Doms you know extremely well who don’t have registered subs. You might have heard of them, they make up three fifths of this really famous boyband — bit overrated if you ask me — but still, they exist.” 

“Liam already has a registered sub and it’s new so, don’t wanna interfere.” Harry mumbled, digging back into the custard cream packet just for something to do. Even if he felt a little sick. Because of the biscuits obviously. Not because of the mention of his bandmates. His bandmates who Harry lied to every single day. 

“Wait when did they make it official?” 

Nick was distracted and Harry couldn’t blame him. Liam and Zayn’s relationship wasn’t common knowledge, but Nick had Harry perks. Not the kind of perks Harry suspected he’d wanted once upon a time. But gossip perks. 

“Last week — they aren’t announcing it yet.” Harry shrugged, as though Zayn and Liam deciding to officially register their bond wasn’t exciting. It was. Of course it was. Harry was happy for them — if not a little jealous. “We’re waiting to use the news for the tour promo.” 

“The life of a Popstar….” Nick shook his head, sighing dramatically as he waved a hand. “Well that still gives you two options.” 

Harry could only stare at him in horror. Was Nick seriously suggesting he ask Niall or _Louis_ to register as his Dominant guardian? Because that was something he wasn’t even willing to consider — not simply because they were his mates who Harry had casually lied to since he was classified. But they were a band, they were _equals_ — and yes okay he knew Zayn was their equal too, he knew being a sub didn’t mean he was any less. But it just — it _felt _different. It felt like it would change things and Harry wasn’t a fan of change. 

Even if watching Louis fake a relationship with Eleanor had sent him into a hot flush the one time Louis had helped her with the collar before a pap walk. It didn’t matter that Eleanor was actually a Dom, just watching Louis’ nimble fingers position the sleek leather of the collar had been enough to send Harry running to his hotel room under the guise being desperate for a nap. 

None of that was relevant. None of that was part of the carefully prepared notes Harry had spent hours compiling. 

“C’mon Popstar ...don't give me that face. They’re your best mates and they’ll be with you for the entire tour.” Nick paused, watching him carefully in a way that made Harry want to sink into the couch or suddenly develop the ability to turn invisible. “You know ...Zayn's experience doesn’t have to be yours. Zayn is a special sexy breed of moody and resentful.” 

Harry took another sip of his now tepid tea, trying not to grimace lest Nick thought it was about that comment. Harry knew he wasn’t Zayn. He knew that he was lucky really, that Zayn had been outed against his will and whilst he’d been understandably angry at the Dom who had sold the story — he’d been very _publicly_ angry for a good couple of months. Public sympathy had gone from being _with_ Zayn for the breach of his privacy to scrutiny about his behaviour and some conservative arseholes using it as an excuse to start discussions on subs needing to be more tightly controlled. 

Zayn’s behaviour or emotions shouldn’t be an excuse for right wing wankers to spread their vicious anti-sub propaganda. But that was the consequence of fame and the privileged life they had. It hadn’t made it any easier to watch Zayn going through it at the time though. 

Zayn hadn’t gotten in any public Twitter feuds for a while and Harry had a suspicion that it was one of Liam’s rules now. It seemed rude to ask about their arrangement in that way — or maybe it wasn’t — but Harry found himself deeply uncomfortable with those types of discussions. Considering he was probably supposed to have some rules himself. 

“It’s been months Nick ...I can’t just casually come out with it now.” he commented eventually, ignoring the point about Zayn because it was simply more convenient to do that. 

“Right ...because you’ve been playing the part of Dom for so long and now you’ve been found out.” Nick sighed, and Harry was horrified at the realisation that he wanted to cry at the very slight chance Nick was disappointed in him. “You know most people would take that as a sign that it’s time to stop lying.” 

“I’m not most people….” he sniffed, absolutely horrified at the tears brimming in his eyes. Because _fuck_ his biology. He didn’t want to sit at the end of this couch and stew in guilt and sorrow over the potential that Nick was upset with him. 

That wasn’t going to help his case. 

“No...you’re really not.” Nick sighed once more, turning to look at him then, his face a picture of concern and Harry prayed he wasn’t going to make a big deal about Harry’s current state. He didn’t. Thank fuck. He simply rubbed a hand up and down Harry’s shin and Harry felt the immediate warm relief flood through his body — he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t disappointed and Harry didn’t need to feel guilty. “Why can’t Simon do it? Or one of your Managers — alright maybe not those dickheads — but what’s that other bloke called? The tour guy? Most Dom to have ever Dommed?” 

“Paul?” Harry asked, trying his best not to move over and curl into Nick’s lap like an indulged house cat. 

Being a sub had the unfortunate tendency to make physical affection something so much _more_. To make the right kind of reassuring touch from a Dom fill him with a warmth and satisfaction even a good cup of tea couldn’t. 

Being _Harry_ made those feelings increase ten fold. He’d always been affectionate, he blamed his mum for getting him used to it when he was younger. 

“Yeah, him.’ 

“I’m not telling _Paul_.” Harry scoffed, because that was probably the worst idea Nick had ever had — and Nick had once thought mixing tequila and vodka shots was genius. 

“Oh I see — because he’ll actually take his responsibilities seriously, unlike your good friend Nick who’s so close to retirement he can’t even remember how to give a spanking.” 

Harry froze at that, eyes widening against his will. It wasn’t unusual to hear that in casual conversation, it was the preferred method of discipline after all. A way for subs to gain release and feel taken care of — at least that’s what everyone said. Harry wouldn’t know. Harry had never been disciplined like that in his entire life. 

He’d thought about it sometimes, when he fucked up in an interview, or got a little too drunk with the lads and listened to Liam lecture him in a way he probably wouldn’t if he knew he was a Sub. He’d thought about it with Louis’ harsh words about Harry being reckless in some way or another ringing in his ears. 

He’d always lain in his bunk or hotel bed on those nights, his body weighted down with guilt or buzzing with feelings he couldn’t place. His hands and feet tingling with an onset of numbness — a sure sign of a drop. He’d thought about it as he’d swallowed down emotional suppressing pills over and over again. The kind marketed to Subs to help stave off a Drop. Like Nicotine gum or something. They did the job but they didn’t fix the underlying problem. He sometimes thought how much easier it would be to just allow someone to help him with the guilt. 

He’d thought about Louis, with his expressive blue eyes, and his fingers that used to card through Harry’s hair more than they did now. Thought about how maybe nursing a sore arse wouldn’t be so bad if Louis were calling him Love and murmuring that he was a good boy in his ear. He thought about forgiveness that _felt_ like forgiveness and how Harry couldn’t remember what that was anymore. 

“Are you _blushing_?” Harry shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts as Nick interrupted, “You’re actually blushing at the word _spanking_? God I wish I could talk about this on air — I’m so deprived — my life is so hard.” 

“Nick….c’mon I’ve been doing this for ages. I don’t need a _Dom_ Dom you know? I just need to not break the law and register a Guardian.” Harry argued, fighting through the blush staining his cheeks. “You don’t even have to _do_ anything, just sign the paperwork — it’s not even a bond — your commitment phobic heart is safe.” 

Harry was hoping that argument was going to win it for him. Because there was a difference. _Every_ sub had a Dom guardian. Usually a parent or family member, someone to keep them grounded and emotionally stable until they found a partner and registered a bond. Considering Harry had decided not to tell his family his classification so they didn’t worry about him more than they already did on tour —that hadn’t been a viable option for Harry. 

Robin or Gemma would have registered in a heartbeat, but they also would have wanted someone with him on tour. They would have put rules in place, things for his safety and Harry could do that for himself. Harry would have ended up with Paul registered as his secondary guardian or something equally horrific — and Paul was parental enough towards them without adding that onto it. 

“What happens if you drop? What kind of guardian am I if I let you go on a world tour knowing there’s nobody around that knows about it?” 

“Well ...you're not a _real_ guardian, just y'know ...on paper.” Harry mumbled awkwardly, because Nick was starting to sound like this was a real thing and not just a signature on a piece of paper. Which was the exact opposite of what Harry wanted. 

“As insulting as your opinion of my superior Dom skills are and as much as I’m loathe to get all sentimental….” Nick squeezed his ankle once more, his voice softer than usual, “You’re my best mate Haz and I’m — as sentimental people would say — _worried_ about you.” 

“Nick ...I've been doing this since I was eighteen.” Harry smiled softly, jiggling his leg in Nick’s grip as a poor attempt at comfort. 

“That’s concerning enough.” 

“Nothing is going to change alright? I’m going to go on tour, you’re going to bore people to death on the radio and and text me with no concept of timezones.” Harry rambled, thankful for his slow drawl making him sound way more casual than he felt. “It’s going to be the same as it always is, but I’m not going to be breaking the law.” 

“This is going to come back to bite me in the arse and quite frankly, I’ve put in way too many hours with a personal trainer to have my arse ruined like that.” Nick sighed dramatically but Harry could tell from the quirk of his lips that he was caving. “...we can try it for a month. _One_ month and if anything goes wrong, or I have an attack of guilt that can’t be cured with tequila then I’m telling Daddy Direction.” 

“....Liam?” Harry couldn’t even bring himself to be happy with the compromise, Liam took being a Dom so seriously Harry was pretty sure he wrote essays in his spare time about his responsibilities. “I told you because I trust you Nick...you can’t tell anyone.” 

“...and that trust has to go two ways Haz.” Nick turned to face him properly then, his eyes serious in a way Harry had rarely seen. His tone softly authoritative that made Harry either want to crawl into his lap and apologise for rules he’d broken that didn’t even _exist_. “You say you’ve been doing this for a year, which must mean you’ve got some healthy coping mechanisms. So I’m trusting you to make sensible decisions, I’m trusting you to take care of yourself — but if it seems like you’re not? If you’re putting your health and emotional well-being at risk? Then all bets are off and I’m not going to sit here knowing that there’s perfectly good Doms around you every day that could help you.” 

“Okay….” he murmured, setting his tea on the ground as he finally gave into temptation and curled into Nick’s side. “Okay….I’m careful I promise — I’m not going to put you in an awkward position Nick. I swear.” 

“God Haz….” Nick groaned, his arm wrapping around Harry in a way that had him sighing happily. It made him feel safe, made him feel secure. It made him feel like Louis had in those years before he’d been classified. Like nothing in the world could touch him, warm and content, without the relentless buzz under his skin that never seemed to leave now. “I dunno how I never guessed….” 

Harry chose to ignore that comment. Plenty of Doms were affectionate too thank you very much. Even if they didn’t sometimes feel like they actively wanted to burrow into someone’s skin. 

….he was working on it. 

\-------------

“Lads, excellent news….” Harry kept his eyes closed as he heard Louis’ voice, in the middle of a very relaxing meditation in which he’d been _flying_ and would like to get back to thank you very much. 

“Oi, you tossers — at least _pretend_ to be listening to me yeah?” Louis tried again, and Harry felt something smack his chest where he was lying on the floor of their dressing room. 

“_Heey_….” he protested, blinking his eyes open and pleasantly surprised when said weapon of Louis’ had in fact been a banana. 

“We’re listening Louis.” Zayn drawled from where he was sketching in the corner, Liam napping on his shoulder. Well — he _had_ been napping, now he was sort of just blinking moodily in a way that Harry thought made him look like a sullen penguin. 

Harry simply shrugged, opening his banana and offering half out to Niall where he was sprawled on the only couch in the room. He didn’t particularly want to share if he was completely honest — but Harry figured it was either feed The Niall or watch The Niall murder Louis for waking him up for something other than food. 

“Right well — oo cheers Haz.” Louis flopped onto the couch, sitting on Niall’s legs as he took the offered banana and popped it in his own mouth. 

Harry was honestly not sure if Louis was going to remain alive, as Niall attempted to remove his legs and Harry stared sadly at the remaining half of his banana before passing it to the blonde Dom with a sigh. Honestly — the sacrifices he had to make for peace and harmony. 

“Tommo — get your big arse off me.” Niall grumbled, but took the offered banana anyway and Harry chose not to be offended at the lack of thank you. Niall wasn’t human until he’d been fed, it was known fact. 

“Jealousy doesn’t become you Ni — just because you’re flat as a pancake.” Louis quipped, finishing off his half of the banana with a flourish and Harry spent a second staring mournfully at his hands where his banana used to be. “Anyway, unlike you lot, some of us — meaning me — have been productive since sound check.” 

“Would you just get on with it Tommo?” Liam sighed and Harry jumped as Liam took a seat next to him on the floor, passing him a banana with a quiet. “Here, Haz.” 

Sometimes Harry thought Liam might actually have magic Daddy Dom skills or something.That he could just sense need and distress — which was what Doms were supposed to do, but still — Liam was really good at it. But he refused to look into that deeply, lest he send himself into a panic an hour before a show. For now, he simply rested his head on Liam’s shoulder happily as he peeled his brand new banana. 

“Right, well now you’ve taken all the shine off it ...I guess I’ll just tell you that Paul okayed us going out tonight.” Louis sighed dramatically, like he was incredibly put out. But Harry wasn’t fooled, he knew that affectionate look in Louis’ eyes. He indulged them with his ridiculous dramatics, lifted the mood in rooms without even having to try. 

There had been a time when Harry’s entire world had consisted of whatever look was in Louis Tomlinson’s eyes so he was a veritable expert by now. There had been a time when Louis had just been there. Whispered words in his ear when he had stage fright, fingers carding through his hair when homesick, arms wrapped around him in celebration. There had been a time when every significant emotion in his life had been so wrapped up in Louis. 

Then he’d been classified and Harry wasn’t sure who had pulled away first. He wasn’t sure if he’d been imagining the look of disappointment in Louis’ eyes when Harry had shown him his fake Dom paperwork. Maybe that had been wishful thinking, at a time when Harry had been unsure of his decision to go along with their management. Maybe he’d wanted Louis to call him out, to express disappointment over his being a Dom so that Harry could feel like being a Sub was the better option. That it was something to be proud of. 

All Harry knew was that his emotions only tied to Louis in memories now. That when the homesickness hit it was only the phantom touch of Louis’ fingers in his hair that sustained him. All he knew was that somewhere along the way, they’d stopped the constant affection and maybe Harry had done it too, maybe he’d pulled away to hide his secret. Or maybe when those fan rumours started about the two of them and if Louis was hiding that he was a sub it had gotten worse. Harry didn’t know what the root cause was, only that the symptoms had been hard on both of them. 

They were still mates. Best mates like they all were. There’d still be touches. But it didn’t have the same weight behind it now. Louis touched him like he touched any other Dom, Louis rough housed with him like Harry wasn’t holding his breath to savour every moment of contact. Louis didn’t touch Harry like he was precious anymore. He didn’t touch him or murmur sweet things into his ear. Louis never called him a good lad like he used to and Harry pretended he didn’t miss it. 

“H….you in there? I swear you get a banana and fuck off to some weird banana world.” Niall’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry stopped chewing for a second to look up at the blonde Dom. 

“Huh?” he mumbled, swallowing quickly as he felt Liam laughing beside him. “What’s a banana world? Is that the club we’re going to? _Kinky_.” 

“No, but I appreciate the enthusiasm Hazza.” Louis rolled his eyes fondly and Harry tried his very best not to swoon that he’d pleased the other boy. 

He was ridiculous. He needed to get a grip. 

“Paul said he’d find us a club, I don’t really give a shit which one as long as there’s alcohol.” Louis waved a hand, fist bumping Niall when requested and Harry took another bite of his banana before he did something stupid like try to make another joke so he could have a fist bump too.

“Zayn you’re coming right?” Louis addressed the Sub in the room, before glancing at Liam quickly. “That’s cool yeah?” 

Harry needed another banana. Or he was going to put another phallic object in his mouth simply because Louis was such a good fucking Dom. He was so respectful, including Zayn but making sure he wasn’t being rude to Liam in case he and Zayn had some private arrangement about drinking or something.

“Yeah if he wants to, sounds fun. We’ve not been out in forever — as long as one of us are there, Zayn can make his own decision.” Liam shrugged, and Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek as a reward for Liam also being a lovely Dom. 

It hadn’t been in his lifetime, but Harry knew there’d been a time when Subs didn’t have the rights they did now. There’d been a time when control over Subs had been abusive rather than protective. When it had been nothing about the different psychological and physical needs they had, and more about the title itself. He knew that once upon a time it would have been completely unacceptable for Zayn (and him) to even _be_ in the band and drinking or living a normal free life was unheard of. 

Now it was different, people had rules and arrangements with their guardians and bonded partners. But there were laws in place now that any Dom who abused their authority and their sub as a result would be locked up faster than Harry could eat a banana. It was common practice however, for Subs not to go out drinking alone. It wasn’t a law or anything, but alcohol affected them differently, affected their emotions and it was always dangerous to be in a vulnerable state without a Dom around in case of a Drop. It was just common sense really, to have a Dom with them. 

Harry didn’t tend to go out alone for that reason. He might be keeping a secret, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t rebellious for the sake of being rebellious and he definitely didn’t want to Drop in a packed Club where anyone could see and take advantage. 

“Don’t annoy me during the show and I’ll think about it.” Zayn drawled from the corner, and Harry laughed when Niall threw a sock at him in retaliation. 

“....not the show yet, so that doesn’t count.” was the only thing Niall said in response to Zayn’s glare. 

Harry snorted, flopping back onto the floor for another ten minutes of relaxation before he’d need to go get his hair fixed. He loved them, his boys. And yeah, maybe sometimes the guilt over his constant lies was too much. Maybe sometimes he just wanted them to know him for who he was, wanted their easy acceptance and soft words instead of harsh yelling when he fucked up. 

But then Niall would flop down on top of him like he was now, closely followed by the rest of them and Harry figured how it was now wasn’t too bad either. 

\-------------

“Liam’s wasted and Niall’s pulled — I’m gonna take this big lug back to the hotel alright?” Louis’ voice was clear in his ear despite the noise of the club and Harry almost choked on his jack and coke at those words. 

“We — we can come with you.” he nodded towards where Zayn was stood at the bar, before helping Liam settle more firmly against the wall. 

“Nah — took ages to get Zayn to come out. He’s having a good time. You two stay.” Louis waved his hand and for a second Harry couldn’t understand why Louis thought Zayn and him could be left here alone. 

“But….Zayn shouldn’t — you know — he needs a Dom to — “ he rambled, the vodka making his brain and tongue confuse their signals. 

“Yeah?” Louis frowned, wrapping Liam’s arm around his shoulders. “_You’re_ here Haz....it’s cool, Liam trusts you yeah? Just have fun and give us a text when you’re back so we know you’re not dead.” 

Oh. Because he was a _Dom_. Right. _He_ could stay here with Zayn and that was totally cool because Harry was a Dom. Completely. Yeah. Totally cool. Didn’t matter that Harry was 100% _not_ a Dom and had already drunk way more than he should have. 

“I trust you Hazza!” Liam yelled drunkenly into his ear, almost falling as he planted a sloppy kiss onto his cheek, Louis using his full strength to hold him up. “You’ll look after my Zayn!” 

Harry should have protested. He should have made some sensible excuse that he felt like going back too so they could all leave. He should have said anything that would mean he wasn’t going to casually allow two subs to be alone in a club. Two _famous_ subs. But Liam was saying he trusted him, he was giving him affection and trusting him, _praising_ him even and Harry couldn’t help but preen at that. He wanted to prove himself, he wanted Liam and Louis to be proud of him. He wanted to do a good job and be a good boy for them. 

A good _Dom_. 

He wanted to be a good Dom. Not boy. 

So he didn’t do anything he should have. He simply watched Louis and Liam stumble towards the back exit where their driver was waiting and made his way back to Zayn. He ignored the guilt in his stomach as he tugged Zayn onto the dance floor. He simply stopped drinking despite already being wasted and decided to play the part of Dom babysitter for the rest of the night. 

He was pretty proud of it too. Proud of himself as he bundled them both into the car later, proud as he passed out in his bed and hadn’t had to take any kind of anti drop pill once. He was proud of himself even when he woke up with a terrible headache and a thank you text from Liam. 

He was proud up until the moment he checked his other texts and saw one from Nick. 

_ **Couldn’t even make it three weeks Popstar? ** _

His eyes widened as he read the words, heart beating in his chest as he clicked the link Nick had sent. Some shitty gossip piece with a picture of Zayn and him leaving the club. The contents didn’t matter. What mattered was Nick _knew_. Nick knew _he_ was a Sub and he knew Zayn was. Nick knew and Harry regretted making that stupid fucking compromise the second Nick’s next text came through. 

_ **Paul, Louis, Niall or Liam. Pick one in the next five minutes or I’ll pick for you. This was such a bad idea and I’ve aged seventeen years exactly in the last five hours. ** _

Harry couldn’t _breathe_. He couldn’t believe Nick was doing this. That Nick was going to betray him like this and he knew rationally that it wasn’t fair to put Nick in this position. Harry had done something dangerous and reckless and he had nobody to help him through that. He had nobody with him to make sure he was okay. He’d put both him and Zayn in danger and he knew that it wasn’t fair to Nick to have that on his conscience. 

But that didn’t mean Harry was willing to be rational. Not right now. Not when he’d gone through such painstaking methods to keep this exactly how he wanted it to be. So he did what he believed was the only real option in this situation. 

He turned his phone off. 

He’d deal with it later. Or never. Whichever came last. 

\-----------

The thing with turning his phone off, was that Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on. He didn’t know if Nick had followed through with his threat, he didn’t know if anyone else was trying to contact him and he hadn’t stayed in his hotel room long enough to find that out in person either. 

They had the day off. A day break in Manchester until their next show and usually Harry would take that opportunity to pop home and see his family. Or, if his mum was on holiday like she was now — he’d do something fun with the boys. He’d make the most of a day of freedom and explore whichever city they were in. 

Usually, Harry wouldn’t have left his phone in his hotel room, grabbed a beanie and sunglasses and sat on a bench by a stretch of canal. Usually Harry wouldn’t be hiding and he _definitely_ wouldn’t risk Paul’s wrath by disappearing without letting anyone know he was going. He wouldn’t usually risk walking around a busy city without some kind of security either. 

But today was not a usual day and Harry wasn’t in a usual mood. It was like, one mistake just led to another and then another — until he was trapped on top of a mountain of all these stupid things he’d done and he couldn’t even fix it. He couldn’t apologise because they didn’t _know_ and if they _did_ know — well that was the reason he was avoiding them in the first place. He couldn’t do the sensible thing and ask for help with the Drop he could feel lingering. 

All he could do was sit on the bench and take another pill every time he felt the weight in his stomach and the horrible thoughts about being bad and useless go round in his head. They usually worked, the pills usually gave him some relief at least but it felt like he’d almost gone through an entire pack and he still couldn’t shake the buzzing under his skin or the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. 

He’d made the decision for desperate action before he’d even realised he had. He could hear the noise from Canal street somewhere in the distance. He knew that now the darkness had come it would be packed with eager Doms and Subs looking for a fix. Dark, sweaty and filled to the brim and perfect for an unfortunately famous Sub like Harry to try and stave off a Drop with some bad decisions. 

He honestly had no idea what Club he was in by the time he was there, he had no idea whose hands were drifting up his shirt and scraping along his torso. He didn’t know what drink was in his hand or who gave it to him but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because the hands that were touching him belonged to a Dom, and the hard cock that was pushing into his jean clad arse as he grinded back against it belonged to a Dom. He didn’t care because the buzzing in his skin wasn’t so insistent anymore. It was still there, pulsing a beat along with the music, but it was lesser, not as sharp. 

“Fuck — you’re so fucking fit.” an unfamiliar voice murmured in his ear but Harry didn’t like that. He didn’t want to hear their voice. Because their voice was too low, it didn’t have a mischievous edge to it and Harry knew if he turned around that voice wouldn’t come along with a set of bright blue amused eyes. 

That realisation hit him like a punch to the gut and all of a sudden he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deal with the hands that suddenly felt like restraints. The hands that seemed to intensify the restless energy that flowed through his skin everywhere they went. Like they were spreading a particularly unpleasant lotion, burning a brand onto his skin that he never asked for. 

“Sorry I — bathroom — “ he managed to stammer out through gritted teeth, not wanting to be rude, not wanting to make this stranger feel responsible for the fact Harry had completely lost his fucking mind. 

He didn’t go to the bathroom, simply stumbled away towards the exit. His eyes were blurry as he made his way to a line of cabs and he ignored the concerned voice of the cab driver as he gave him the name of the hotel. Because if he asked him, if he asked if he was okay then Harry wouldn’t survive it. If he did anything but move from one task to another then Harry wouldn’t be able to make it. He wouldn’t and he wasn’t sure what happened if he didn’t. 

By the time they made it to the hotel he’d managed to calm his pounding heart enough not to drop completely, but the rest of the physical symptoms remained and Harry guessed it was because he just kept doing things that made it worse. Leaving for one. That hadn’t been his best idea. Taking those pills and continuing the lie. Going to _another_ club alone. Ignoring Nick and everyone else. All of it. 

The walk from the Cab seemed like it took forever, limbs heavy and by the time he was walking down the hallway to his room he’d given up all pretence of pretending he wasn’t going to drop. He was. He was going to drop and he was just going to have to deal with it. He just had to get to his room, he had to get inside and lock the door and figure out a way to get through it without any help. He could do it. Plenty of people did it, he was sure. There were some very independent subs in the world and he was sure he wasn’t the only one who had to deal with drops by themselves. 

It took him a while to get his Key Card out of his pocket, and he’d barely shut the door behind him before a voice was interrupting the buzzing in his head. 

“_Fuck_, you’re back.” Harry frowned, confused as he was pulled into a hug suddenly. Zayn’s strong arms wrapping around him. “You’re such an idiot. Such a fucking idiot.” 

Harry didn’t know what Zayn was talking about. He didn’t know why Zayn was in his room and hugging him. He just knew he smelled like Zayn, he smelled warm and comforting and Harry buried his head in the other boys neck and just breathed for a minute. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t the same touch as a Dom. It wasn’t that same kind of weighted relief, but affection was affection and it helped clear some of the clouds in his head, enough for him to function for a minute. Enough to get some semblance of normality. 

“Nick told me.” 

Harry froze at Zayn’s words. Spoken with a quiet confidence that only Zayn could manage. Spoken just like that, so casually Zayn might as well have stated that the sky was blue. Spoken as though Harry’s whole world wasn’t going to crumble around him now that the worst had happened. 

“Nick — he — he’s dramatic. I don’t — there’s not — “ he started, pulling back from Zayn and staring at him with wide, panicked eyes. He couldn’t get himself together long enough to formulate a convincing response. He couldn’t focus. 

“Save it Harry.” Zayn commanded, although it wasn’t harsh, didn’t have quite the bite Zayn could have when he really wanted to. “He told me everything. He was in a fucking state when he called, said he couldn’t get hold of you and that he shouldn’t have made that threat over text, that he knew you’d panic. He told me so that someone would know Harry….he did you a _favour_.” 

“Just you?” he mumbled, twisting his rapidly numbing fingers in his shirt, trying to disguise the trembling, or stop it or — or _something_. He wasn’t sure anymore what he was doing or what was happening. 

“Yeah. I guess he didn’t want to betray your confidence and tell a Dom until he had to. Everyone’s been worried about you though — Paul wouldn’t let us go looking, said it’d cause a scene if we did. Then we saw the pictures on twitter that you were out and he sent security to find you.“ Zayn paused then, and Harry could feel his sharp eyes on him. Shivered as he felt the way the other boy was sizing him up, and flinched when he heard his sharp intake of breath. “You’re _dropping_. Fuck Haz, you’re dropping — “ 

“No I — I took a pill — I’m — I’m — “ he mumbled but he couldn’t find the words, tongue felt thick and foreign in his mouth. So he fumbled in his pocket instead, shoving the empty packet of pills at Zayn so he’d know. He’d know he was fine and he didn’t need to worry. 

“Well it’s evidently not working.” Zayn snapped and Harry hated that he could hear the panic in his friend's voice. 

Zayn who reacted with anger or nothing at all whenever he felt something overwhelming. Harry was causing that now, Harry was causing him distress and he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t take any of it. 

He let out a choked sob, heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. He didn’t know what was happening. Only that he _hated _himself, he hated the pain he was causing. He hated everything and he couldn’t remember how to not. He couldn’t even remember how to take a breath. 

“_Fuck_….fuck Harry, c’mon babe. We have to get someone to help you.” Zayn was talking, was holding his hand and tugging him along and Harry wanted to protest but it was hard enough to get his legs to move as he stumbled after him. 

He must have made some kind of noise of distress though because Zayn’s voice was there again, sure and strong even if his touch wasn’t quelling the pounding of Harry’s heart. 

“I’m sorry ...I know, I know you don’t want them to know. But I can’t help you Harry, I’m not a Dom.” he was squeezing his wrist, at least Harry thought he was. Everything was blurred and strange, touch didn’t really feel like touch anymore. He didn’t feel like him. “It’s going to be okay, we’re getting you some help and you’re going to be okay.” 

Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or how far his heavy legs had stumbled until a door was being opened and his body was being shoved unceremoniously into a familiar pair of arms. 

Harry could only whimper when the arms didn’t hold him like he wanted them to, when instead small but firm hands gripped his shoulder and familiar blue eyes met his own with a steely gaze that made Harry want to cry. 

“Oh look who the cat dragged in — don’t give me that face Zayn you’d make a good cat — I see you’ve been delivered to get yelled at yeah? _Fuck_, you’re well wasted.” 

“Louis.” Zayn’s voice broke through the noise, stern and yet kind of distressed, but Harry couldn’t really tell which emotion was winning out. He barely knew if this was real life or a dream. 

“What the fuck were you _thinking_ going off like that?” the arms shook him and Harry thought maybe his organs were going to fall out. He wasn’t sure he even cared. “Twitter is having a bloody field day with you. We’ve got a show tomorrow and you just — “ 

“Louis shut the fuck up.” Zayn interrupted, and Harry could only whimper desperately and he thought maybe he should be ashamed. Maybe he should be embarrassed of his reactions but he couldn’t feel anything but sorrow and confusion. “He’s dropping.” 

“What are you — what?” Louis’ eyes left his, presumably to turn to Zayn and Harry wanted to cry all over again. 

“He’s dropping Louis.” 

“Fuck — I don’t understand — _what?_” 

“Harry. Is. Dropping. Can you pull your head out of your arse for ten seconds and _do_ something?” 

“But how is he — oh _fuck_ —” Louis’ eyes were back on his again then, studying him intently and Harry watched as they widened in realisation. He wanted to duck his head but he couldn’t, wanted to run but he couldn’t do that either. He was stuck, hyper focused on the blue of Louis’ eyes, on the hands on his shoulders as though that was all that was keeping him alive. “Hazza _no_ ...sweetheart what did you _do_?” 

Harry let out a desperate whimper, the tears falling down his face because he didn’t _know_. He didn’t know what he’d done, he didn’t even really know what was going on but he thought maybe Louis was mad at him. That he was bad. 

“Okay ...it's okay, come on, c'mere.” Harry felt as Louis wrapped an arm around his shoulders, felt as he was led into the room and pulled between Louis’ legs as the other boy took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Look at me love, let me see those pretty eyes.” Harry looked at him automatically, his heart slowing considerably as Louis took both of his hands in his and squeezed lightly. “That’s it — good boy.” 

Harry felt some of the weight leave his body at that, like he could physically feel it dropping off him. Because Louis was calling him a good boy. Even though he was bad. Even though he hated himself. Couldn’t rationalise the horrible self flagellation in his head, couldn’t tell himself it was just a Drop because he didn’t have the capacity for rational anymore. 

“I’m going to help you go down okay?” Louis murmured gently, and Harry didn’t know what that meant but Louis sounded so confident and so reassuring that Harry wanted it anyway. “Zayn, tell Paul he’s back and bring the others here yeah?” 

“Louis he doesn’t want — “ Zayn’s voice cut through the noise again, only for Louis to interrupt.

“It’s a bit late for that now, what he wants has gotten him in this state.” Harry whimpered in distress at the tone, at the implication that Louis was mad at him. He’d been bad. He was bad. He was so bad. Only, then Louis was squeezing his hands once more, before running his own up and down his arms and Harry wanted to _melt_. “Shh it’s alright sweetheart, nobody is mad at you. Just worried that’s all ...come on now, down you go.” 

Harry felt as Louis tugged him down gently, felt as his legs folded beneath him and his knees hit the floor. He had a vague notion he was kneeling, his hands wrapping around Louis’ calf desperately, head resting on the other boys thigh as the buzzing in his skin seemed to cease. 

It was like someone had hit pause. Like the air in the room was thick without being stifling. All of a sudden there was quiet where there hadn’t been before and Harry wanted to cry with the relief of it. Only he didn’t, because Louis’ voice was breaking through, a constant reassuring sound within the peaceful silence. An anchor tying him to reality. 

“That’s it, so good ...such a good boy for me Hazza.” Harry shivered pleasantly, making a small pleased sound he didn’t know he could even make at those words. Because he was a good boy. He was being good. He was being such a good boy for his Louis and that’s all he wanted to be.

He felt almost like he was floating as confident fingers ran through his hair, as nails scraped pleasantly against his scalp and Louis’ soft voice floated within the peaceful silence. 

“That’s it, close your eyes....there you go, so good ...so good for me sweetheart.”  



	2. Can the cat return to the bag?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting on the last chapter. I’m new to the fandom and really blown away. I didn’t expect that response and it really prompted me to edit this one super fast. 
> 
> I apologise for the length, there just wasn’t another logical place to break it up. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think and also if you would like to see anything in particular or any one shots within this verse with other pairings etc. 
> 
> **WARNING **
> 
> Here there lie spanking. If it is not your thing skip the last section. But it is literally a story kind of a lot about that, but i will provide warnings anyway. 

“I can’t believe we didn’t know.” Harry kept his eyes shut tightly against the invading voice, he had no idea who it was or _where_ he was, only that he was tired and the voice was unwelcome. “All the signs were there — we — we’re supposed to know these things.” 

“It’s not your fault Liam….” a familiar Irish accent entered the conversation and Harry felt himself relax. It was just Liam and Niall, just them having a conversation with no regard for sleeping people. 

The usual. 

“I can’t believe Grimshaw knew and we didn’t.” Louis’ voice appeared then, along with fingers carding through his hair and and Harry honestly wanted to fucking purr. 

But he wasn’t a cat and there had been far too many internet memes about that so he refrained. 

“He’s only known for a couple of weeks….” Liam was whispering, but Harry felt like he should know he was a really shit whisperer. Too bad he was too tired to inform him. “Harry was found out after the blood drive, he needed a dominant guardian on file. Zayn told me last night.”

“Right and good old, _can’t resist Harry Styles_ Grimshaw decided to just go the fuck along with it? Thought Harry would finally open his legs for him if he let him harm himself?” Louis scoffed and Harry didn’t like that at all, didn’t like how that action moved his pillow, or how the hands stilled in his hair for a second. “Sounds about right.” 

“C’mon Tommo don’t be harsh, not much he can do from London is there?” _Naill_, Naill was his favourite with his wise words and pleasing tone. Harry was going to tell him so when his head wasn’t so foggy. 

Maybe he wouldn’t tell him where the others could hear though. He didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

“Which is why he shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place!” Harry flinched, opening his eyes reluctantly at the volume, confused for a second when he was met with skin and tattoo’d words only to realise with a blush ...his pillow was Louis’ chest. “We should have been told, we’re here all the fucking time we — we wouldn’t have yelled at him and — _I_ wouldn’t have — “ 

“Not now Lou…” Liam’s voice was softer, and Harry had the feeling he was nodding in his direction if the three sets of eyes on him all of a sudden meant anything. 

“Hey there Curly, how you feeling?” Louis’ voice was soft to match the smile on his face, and Harry blinked up at him as he tried to wake himself up. 

He lifted his head just enough to try and get his bearings, noticing Liam was sat up against the headboard next to him, a firm hand on his hip, Niall lay horizontal across the end of the bed with a hand on his ankle. He wanted to make a joke about codependency and their need to touch. But his skin felt warm and pleasant where their hands lay and he found himself burrowing further into Louis’ chest, feeling all squirmy and warm and nice. 

He couldn’t help it, he wanted to crawl into Louis’ skin where it was warm and safe and if Louis could _also_ go inside his own skin so he could keep running his fingers through his tangled curls that’d be okay too. He couldn’t even be ashamed, didn’t have it in him to care about anything but the warm reassuring touch and the peaceful lethargy that had settled over his body in a way he hadn’t woken up to in ages. 

“Someone’s still a bit down huh?” Liam’s voice broke through his thoughts and Harry let out an involuntary whimper as strong arms hauled him up enough until he was sat against the headboard, a freshly peeled banana being held up to his mouth. “C’mon eat this, there’s a good lad.” 

He was going to protest, going to reach for Louis who was also sitting up. But Liam had called him a _good lad_ and he wanted to be so badly. He wanted to prove that he was. Eating a banana seemed a really easy way to do that. 

Especially when Louis was taking it from Liam and wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. It was easy to be a good lad then, when he could snuggle into Louis’ warmth and simply take bites of the banana when it was offered. 

“He can’t go on stage tonight.” Niall’s voice slipped through his haze and Harry frowned at that implication. “He needs rest and some good cuddles y’know? Might need something else too…” 

Niall’s voice trailed off and as Harry swallowed another bite of banana he could feel the fog clearing a little. He didn’t really want it to, he didn’t want to have to face what he knew he needed to. 

Because they _knew_. They knew that he was a Sub. They knew because last night Harry had dropped. He’d dropped after behaving horrifically and Zayn had taken him to Louis. 

Not only did they know, but Louis had worked him through it. He didn’t remember much beyond Louis’ voice and his fingers. He had vague notions of tender fingers stripping his sweaty clothes off his body and arms holding him close through the night. But other than that, he didn’t recall much. He wasn’t sure honestly, if it had been a dream or not.  


“I know ...we can announce that he’s sick tonight, we’ll figure it out.” Liam’s voice broke through his thoughts and Harry frowned. 

“I can fucking _hear_ you.” he mumbled, turning his face away from the press of banana against his lips because even if them discussing his well-being was making him feel all warm and fuzzy, he had a reputation to maintain. He had arguments to make about how all of this was a one off. 

“We know, but finish eating and then we’ll talk to you properly alright?” Louis stated firmly, and Harry felt a straw pressed to his lips before he could formulate an answer and he sucked automatically. “Juice too.” 

“Good boy.” Louis squeezed his side and any notion Harry had about not doing any of those things went right out the window at that. 

Instead, he sucked happily at the straw, letting the tangy taste of the orange juice quench his thirst and chewed contentedly on the banana when it was offered to him. It was only when he was finished with his head firmly resting on Louis’ shoulder whilst the other boy stroked his hair, that he attempted to speak again. 

“You don’t have to — _y’know_ —” he waved an arm, indicating this entire thing. The juice and fruit and the affection. All of it. “I’m fine now — I was — I’m fine.” he mumbled, lifting his head and accidentally dislodging Louis’ arm as he ran a hand through his hair. 

He felt like he had to say something, he had to start making a case for this to be firmly forgotten. For this to be placed in the same bank of forgotten memories where they’d put Liam’s unfortunate foray into break dancing. 

“You know what you’re going to stop doing Harry?” Louis’ voice was stern, calm and measured and it made Harry want to melt into the bed. “Lying to us.” 

“M’Sorry….” he mumbled automatically, ducking his head as he studied the sheet around his waist with interest. 

He could feel the weight in his stomach again, feel it just there under the contentment he’d felt just minutes before. 

“Hey Curly, head up please.” Harry snapped his head up immediately, meeting Louis’ eyes without hesitation simply because he’d told him to. “Apology accepted alright? Forgiven. You’re good, you’re a good boy.”

Harry smiled, so wide he could feel his dimples showing and he didn’t care. He couldn’t force himself to as a wave of contentment flushed through his body. Because Louis thought he was a good boy, he forgave him for that small lie and it was okay. It was all okay because he was a good boy and Louis forgave him. 

He was only further rewarded as Louis tucked him close once more and pressed a dry kiss to the top of his head and Harry wasn’t sure what heaven was, but he thought maybe it might be this moment right here. 

“You finished Haz?” Niall smiled at him kindly, his eyes sparkling as he took the juice and banana peel from Louis when Harry nodded. “Good lad.” he reached over and ruffled his hair and Harry fucking _preened_ at that. 

It should have been embarrassing. But Harry had once thrown up at the side of the stage and then Niall had slipped in it when he’d ran for a wee. So when it came to shame between them, Harry wasn’t sure that was even a thing that existed anymore. 

“Are you ready to talk to us? Feel up enough?” Liam nudged his shoulder, smiling down at him kindly in his Liam way. Always concerned, always with a slight furrow in his brow that Harry wanted to smooth away. “Because we’ve got a lot of questions H...we’ve got a lot of things we need to talk about.” 

“We don’t — we don’t have to talk about it.” Harry lifted his head from Louis’ shoulder, playing with the sheets between his fingers awkwardly. “This has never happened before, Nick shouldn’t of — “ 

“Nick shouldn’t have done a lot of things, calling Zayn was one thing he did right.” Louis interrupted sternly, and Harry took a breath as he let his curls fall across his face to hide his blushing cheeks. 

He felt like he was in trouble. He didn’t know how to shake that feeling, when he was nineteen and the idea of being in trouble wasn’t really something he’d experienced since he was fourteen and he bunked off school and drank vodka in the park with his mates. His mum had grounded him for a week but by the weekend he’d apologised so many times and washed that many dishes that she’d given in and set him free with a stern warning not to do it again and an I love you. 

He wanted to apologise over and over again, but he also wanted them to stop making him feel like a school kid who hadn’t done his homework. Yet, he _also_ wanted them to _never_ stop because as uncomfortable as he felt, he also felt safe and cared for and he wasn’t sure what to do with all of the conflicting feelings. 

“Although I’d have preferred he hadn’t put that kind of pressure on Zayn….” Liam murmured, and Harry’s heart started to beat rapidly. 

“Liam, not now.” Louis interrupted but Harry wasn’t listening, Harry was too busy thinking about Zayn and the fucking terrible position he’d been put in. 

“Oh God, is he okay? Did he drop? Is he — “ he snapped his head up, glancing at Liam as though he could provide all the answers just from the set of his shoulders. 

He was interrupted by Louis, his fingers under his chin as he firmly turned his head to meet his eyes. 

“Shh Curly, he’s fine...he’s asleep, was waiting up half the night for a certain someone to get home wasn’t he?” Harry bit his lip, eyes widening at the mild scolding. “No don’t give me that look, you know you fucked up yesterday.” 

“_Majorly_ fucked up Haz.” Niall supplied helpfully from where he was munching on his own banana. 

“It was very naughty.” Liam chipped in and Harry felt all the oxygen leave his body at that word. 

_Naughty_. 

He couldn’t believe Liam had just said that with his own mouth. He couldn’t believe it was directed at _him_ and he definitely couldn’t believe that it made him squirm with shame and a desperate need to not be that anymore. He hadn’t meant to. He wanted to be good. 

“Liam.” Niall’s voice was soft, but held an edge of something Harry couldn’t quite place and didn’t usually associate with the other lad. “Ease him in a bit first, yeah?” 

“Sorry ...force of habit.” Liam shrugged apologetically, before reaching to tilt Harry’s chin, eyes meeting his firmly but kindly. “You made some bad decisions Harry, and I know you’re going to say you don’t have any rules, that you’re not in an arrangement so you did nothing wrong, but I reckon you know that’s not true right?” 

“I’m sorry...I wasn’t trying to — you wanted me to look after Zayn and I — “ he rambled desperately, needing Liam to know that he hadn’t _meant_ to. He would have disappointed him if he’d made Zayn leave because then he wouldn’t have been a good Dom, _or_ if he’d stayed. He’d felt stuck with two bad decisions. “Anything could’ve happened to him, it was stupid — I should’ve just insisted I was coming back and I didn’t — “ 

“Hazza, slow down yeah?” Louis reached for him, tugging him back against his body firmly. “Anything could’ve happened to _you_. Not just Zayn, and it _did_ happen….you _dropped _and if Zayn hadn’t have been here it could’ve been a lot worse. Yeah staying in that club the other night was fucking stupid and reckless, but what was worse was dealing with everything by yourself afterwards, was doing it _again _last night, was lying to us for a year since you got your results….we could’ve avoided all of this. You could’ve been happy and healthy and — “ 

“Why didn’t you tell us mate?” Niall interrupted suddenly, and Harry had barely processed Louis’ words before he was trying to scramble for another answer. 

It was a pretty good tactic if they were doing it on purpose so he didn’t have time to get all stubborn. 

“I — “ he started, struggling to find his footing. “Modest wanted me to — “ 

“Those fuckers!” Louis interrupted and Harry could only watch helplessly as Louis stood from the bed, a hand running through his hair as though he was genuinely going to go yell at their management right that second. “We’re _done_. We’re fucking done with them. I don’t care. Let them sue us.” 

“_No_ — no Lou it’s not like that. They wanted me to stay a Dom publicly but they never said I couldn’t tell anyone.” he scrambled, half reaching for Lou, half held back by Liam’s steady hand on his hip. “I did that myself.” 

“You never would’ve got that idea in your head if they hadn’t brought it up, if they hadn’t made you feel ashamed of it.” Louis was still standing, his eyes flashing with anger and Harry wanted so badly to make that go away. He didn’t want to ever cause him anything but happiness. 

Maybe he was still a bit down from the drop. Maybe he wasn’t completely fine. His emotions were on a hair trigger, he felt clingy and needy way more than he usually was and Louis not being on the bed next to him was making him feel physically sick. 

“I didn’t want anything to change ...I still don’t.” he murmured, eyes brimming with tears as he glanced down at his lap once more. 

“Haz mate, some things have to, you know that right?” Niall was squeezing his ankle once more and it helped, it did. It relieved some of the weird tension in his body — but it wasn’t _enough_. Nothing seemed to be enough. 

“_Why_? Why does it need to? You know now yeah but that doesn’t mean things have to change. I’m still _me_, I’m still — “ he looked up then, meeting Niall’s kind eyes as the other boy interrupted him.

“We know you’re still you, you moron.” Niall scoffed, “No offence mate, you’ve never really been much of a Dom anyway.” 

“Niall….” Liam scolded mildly, and Harry hated that they weren’t currently making fun of him for it. They usually did. Liam was so Dom they needed a whole new classification just for him. “This doesn’t change anything like that H, but someone needs to help take care of you yeah? You can’t have been feeling good all this time ...” 

Liam trailed off, laying his empty pack of pills on Harry’s lap and Harry bit his lip to stifle the sob that threatened. So Zayn really had spilled every bean going to Liam. He couldn’t even be mad. Not really. 

“How many of these do you take?” Liam asked softly fingers gripping his chin and Harry was forced to look into concerned eyes. 

“I don’t — just when I’m gonna drop or something you know? I do other stuff — meditation, yoga and stuff. I’m not — they aren’t illegal.” he added quickly, the eye contact making him off kilter. Made him want to explain, want them to understand. Made it so the idea of them being disappointed was the worst possible thing in the world. 

The disappointed part probably wasn’t the eye contact. But Harry was perfectly happy to believe it was. 

“No but they aren’t for long term use either.” Liam continued, frowning in a way that made Harry want to bury his head under the covers. 

“When did ya buy this pack Haz?” Niall asked, and Harry blanched. 

“I don’t — “ he started.

“_When_.” Liam’s voice was firm, eyes still meeting his firmly and Harry bit his lip as he mumbled his answer. 

“....yesterday.” 

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?” Harry startled at Louis’ voice from the side of the bed, tearing his face away from Liam as he turned to Louis. He immediately wished he hadn’t, the other boy looked furious. One hand running through his hair as he stood, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “It’s nearly _empty_! Do you know how fucking dangerous and — “ 

“Louis, calm down.” Liam ordered calmly, although Harry could tell he was forcing that tone. Knew that if he looked at him, his jaw would be tense. 

He chose to look at his lap instead, the almost empty pack of pills staring back at him. Evidence of his guilt right there. 

“He could’ve _killed_ himself — he’s been slowly killing himself already for fucks sake! _Calm down_? You’re all _too_ fucking calm.” Louis ranted and Harry quickly wiped at a stray tear. “I’ve got half a mind to take him over my knee right now.” 

Harry wanted to _die_. Right there and then. He just wanted to perish in the sheets of Louis’ hotel bed and never acknowledge ever again that Louis had just said that out loud like it was just a casual thing to state. 

“You can’t...you’re not my — “ Harry argued weakly as he glanced up, only for Louis to shoot him a look so stern and cutting Harry almost whimpered. 

“Don’t push it Curly.” 

Louis’ eyes were challenging, but Harry didn’t have any desire to rise to that occasion. He had a feeling he wouldn’t win. He’d _never_ won with Louis. When it came to any battle of wills, Louis always won. Against anyone. And Harry wasn’t exactly the most strong willed in general. 

“Let’s just all take some breaths alright? We’ve got a lot to sort out, but we’re not going to do anything with this level of emotion.” Liam’s voice broke the weird stalemate, and Harry fought back both relief and disappointment when Louis finally broke the eye contact. “Harry’s just had a drop, so we can’t make any decisions right now.” 

Harry didn’t know what Liam meant by _decisions_. But he didn’t want any part in it. He didn’t like this, or he didn’t like that he liked it. He wasn’t sure. He still felt kind of weird, not necessarily in a bad way just — _off_. Not quite on his game. Weak and susceptible to being persuaded by a cuddle. Which admittedly wasn’t far from his every day state but this time they _knew_. 

“I’m fine — I need to go and call my mum before the show and — and _Nick_, fuck I need to call Nick.” Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair. Overwhelmed once more. He had to _fix_ it. He had so much to try and fix and he had no idea where to even start. 

“Nick’s coming here.” Louis shrugged, glancing once at Niall and Liam, and Harry had the distinct impression he’d lost some kind of bet and had to be the one to break that news. 

“...what?” Harry was quite proud of the fact he’d managed speech. 

“He’s coming here, he’ll be here after the show.” The mild panic must have shown in his face, because Liam placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice apologetic. “We didn’t have a choice Haz, he’s your Dom on file and we need to figure all this out with him and you before we start touring for real.” 

“Figure _what_ out? There’s nothing to figure out ...he's not my _Dom_. He’s a mate — he was just doing me a favour.” 

“Some favour.” Louis scoffed.

“Louis.” Niall warned, and Harry’s eyes flickered to him in shock. Niall was a good Dom, but he didn’t flaunt it. He was subtle. Brought it out when he needed to and most of the time felt he didn’t really need to. “Mate, you know you’re gonna need a Dom on tour. Especially now you can’t take those fucking things anymore.” 

“You also need to be disciplined for what happened and legally, we can’t do anything without your permission. Or Nick’s.” Liam stated casually and Harry didn’t understand how he was saying those words with his mouth. Like that was a thing that was ever going to happen.

“I don’t — _what_?” Harry spluttered, his cheeks burning and he didn’t need a mirror to know he was definitely blushing something awful. He required everyone to ignore it. “Nick Grimshaw is not going to — “ 

“Haz, it’s pretty simple yeah? You registered him as your Dom, either that becomes null and void cause he’s abusive or something — which he isn’t — or you pick a new one.” Louis shrugged, “So if Nick decides someone has to watch out for you on tour and assigns a secondary guardian? Well, that’s up to Nick. You gave him that power Haz, that was your decision.” 

Harry honestly couldn’t equate this conversation or the words Louis was saying with real life. These were his _best mates_, so it was hard to feel anything but comfortable. Yet he really wasn’t comfortable acknowledging the reality of his situation. It was a weird juxtaposition he couldn’t rationalise. He didn’t know how to respond, he didn’t know how to react. He hadn’t remotely prepared for any of these possibilities. 

“He’s not going to do that. We’re friends — he’ll hate this.” he murmured, forcing the words out of his mouth. 

Because maybe they were the ones forcing him into this terrible conversation, but they were also his favourite people, and it was difficult when the people who made you feel better were making you feel bad in the first place. 

Or well — he’d made _himself _feel bad — but that made the weight settle heavy in his stomach again, so he didn’t want to acknowledge that. Quite frankly, he wanted to go back to sleep and pretend he’d never woken up to this in the first place. 

“So don’t make him ...do the right thing yourself. Pick someone to watch over you on tour.” Louis stated simply, but not without sympathy. Harry hated that the softer tone reassured him. “Either way Haz, you need to be disciplined for this or you’re gonna drop again. I know you feel bad, you’ve apologised about a hundred times.” 

“Stop talking about that.” Harry snapped, regretting it immediately as the guilt settled heavily in his stomach. 

“About discipline?” Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a prude, it’s not like you’ve never — “ 

Harry said nothing. He simply stared at a spot on the far wall and pretended to no longer exist. He just stared as he felt his face heating up once more and considered if it would be painful to spontaneously combust. 

“Oh shit….” Liam murmured, trailing off in shock and Harry couldn’t look at him. He refused to look and see that stupidly concerned brow again. 

“Fuck, _really_?” Niall squeezed his ankle, but Harry didn’t care. Because Harry was about to will himself into teleportation or something. He meditated. He could do it. 

“Okay ...alright love, let’s leave this for now.” Harry felt the bed dip as Louis climbed back on. “You’re still dealing with the aftershocks, so we’re not gonna think about this anymore right now. Look at me Hazza, there’s a good boy.” 

His eyes met Louis’, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took large, shuddering breaths. He was trying to calm down. He was trying to stop the freak out that he could feel happening. But it was so much. It was everything he wanted yet didn’t want and hadn’t allowed himself too all at the same time. 

“Breathe for me yeah? Good boy.” Louis murmured, and Harry felt himself being tugged down once again, Louis’ arm wrapping around him firmly, his head pillowed on a warm chest. “We’re gonna have a little snooze alright? We’ll get you tucked up here all nice and Paul is gonna sit with you while we do the show tonight —” 

Harry let out a whimper at that, honestly not sure when he came someone who whimpered on the regular. But it was happening and he was so warm and comfortable he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Shh no no it’s okay, you’ve got the flu — nobody knows.” Louis was still murmuring and Harry could only lie there and listen as the Dom’s heart beat steady and firm against his ear. “That’s it, good boy. You’re just gonna relax and eat some food and later when Nick comes we’re all going to talk and it’s going to be fine. You don’t need to worry about any of it Haz.”

“We love you H — nobody is going to do anything that won’t make you feel better.” Liam murmured, tucking the sheets firmly around him and Harry pressed further into Louis, the panic receding slightly at the prolonged contact

“I’m sorry….” he mumbled into the skin of the Dom’s chest. Felt like he needed to at least say it. So they’d know. 

“Shh, we know....we know you’re sorry and we’re going to deal with it and then it’ll be over and we’ll have a fresh start okay? Clean slate.” Louis’ fingers ran through his hair once more, and Harry couldn’t help but press into it, couldn’t help the feeling of contentment that flowed throughout his body. “Now come on, let’s have a snooze and it’ll be better when you wake up.” 

Harry wanted to protest, he wanted to say he didn’t need to have a snooze. He didn’t need to nap or calm down. He didn’t need to be coddled or to have them sleep with him. But Louis was still murmuring softly, and Harry’s eyes were getting heavy. 

“C’mon Curly, close your eyes for me.” 

Harry figured it was okay to maybe do what he said right now. Because it kind of felt nice to listen. 

\---------

Harry was quite content to ignore the entire situation, ignore it and carry on with life like the tiny little blip hadn’t happened. He didn’t feel as weird and clingy as he had when he’d first woken up and although he’d attempted to argue that he was fine to perform — one heart stoppingly stern look from Louis and his mouth had shut so fast Harry was pretty sure it broke the sound barrier or something. 

It was harder to pretend nothing was going on when he was sitting on the couch in his hotel room whilst everyone else was performing. It was even harder to pretend when he had Paul popping his head in every ten minutes and bringing him juice. He’d reached for the minibar to add some vodka but figured Paul looked like he might actively murder him so he hadn’t bothered in the end. He’d sat on his couch, drinking orange juice like a child and tried his best to pretend this was nothing out of the ordinary. 

There was still that restless feeling in his bones. He couldn’t understand it, like sitting still was too much and yet moving around made him feel heavy and out of sorts. It was like there was an itch he just couldn’t scratch and the longer the night went on, the harder it was to ignore. He knew what Louis had said, that he wasn’t going to feel right until he’d been — but well Harry didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it because it was definitely not going to happen. 

So he didn’t think about it. He forced himself into the bathroom for a shower. He let the water wash away the guilt and attempted for the jet to pound out the restless buzzing beneath his skin. 

It didn’t work. _Obviously_. And by the time he’d pulled his sweatpants back on and towel dried his hair, he entered the room to find a familiar face sitting on his couch like he had every right to be there. 

“Hey there Popstar.” Nick’s voice was like a soothing balm on his frayed nerves and any anxiety Harry had about seeing him disappeared in an instant when he saw the soft smile on Nick’s face and the easy, open arms. “You coming over for a cuddle or have you turned into a very attractive statue?” 

Harry was over there in less than a second. It was honestly pretty embarrassing how quickly he managed to move from the bathroom doorway. One second he was leaning frozen against the wall, and the next he was sitting sideways on Nick’s lap on the couch, his face buried in his neck as he mumbled apologies into his skin. 

Okay yeah. So maybe he wasn’t completely fine yet. 

“Alright, c’mon poppet ...you're okay.” Nick murmured to him, his hand rubbing up and down the outside of his thigh and Harry’s skin was warm and comfortable at his touch. 

The restless buzzing under his skin hadn’t quite ceased but it was quieter, manageable in a way, like a cup of tea that had cooled just enough to drink it. Like honey on a sore throat, it didn’t fix the symptoms underneath but it definitely provided some relief for a while. 

Harry wasn’t sure if one of the symptoms was thinking everything in strange metaphors, but he decided to just be okay with it. He had more than enough to not be okay with already. 

“You up enough to talk?” Nick’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry was very tempted to simply shake his head and pretend he wasn’t because ‘talk’ sounded like a not fun activity Harry wanted to avoid. 

But he figured he’d lied enough, he’d upset enough people and that wasn’t ever what he’d been trying to do. 

“Yeah….” he mumbled, lifting his head from that comfortable spot in Nick’s neck reluctantly. “I can talk.” 

“I owe you an apology Harry.” Nick started and Harry opened his mouth to protest only to have Nick shake his head and continue. “No, no just listen. We’ve never had that kind of relationship before — you were a Dom and that’s how I saw you. When you came to me and asked me, I don’t think it really hit that you were a Sub asking for something that wasn’t in your best interest. I still saw you as my Popstar best mate. The one who crashes on my couch, drinks all my tea and tries to steal my dog you know?” 

“....I _want_ you to see me like that.” Harry mumbled, trying to ignore the tears brimming in his eyes because this was exactly what he didn’t want. He didn’t want to be seen differently, he still wanted to be him. He still wanted to be Nick’s Popstar best mate. 

“I know and I do, but there’s something else now yeah? Something added and I went against everything I know and everything I feel and agreed so I could still keep all that as well.” Harry went to protest again and Nick simply hushed him. “I _mean_ that I didn’t want to make you angry, I didn’t want to risk losing you completely because I didn’t agree with what you were asking. When the right thing to do would have been to say no. The best mate thing to do would have been to tell you that this wasn’t good for you and I wasn’t going to help with it. I shouldn’t have been scared of losing you — it should’ve been a risk I took to keep you safe.” 

“I’m sorry….” Harry murmured, the guilt heavy in his stomach as he looked at his unusually serious friend. He’d put Nick in a shitty position and he’d known that when he was doing it. He’d taken advantage of Nick’s desire to be wanted and loved and he wasn’t sure if he’d known he was doing it at the time — but he’d known Nick was the only one likely to agree. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position — I was desperate — we were leaving a week later and I needed to sort it and I — “ 

“Shh, it’s alright Popstar — you’d had a shock and it’s a lot yeah? I’ve not been given many ultimatums in my life either, but I reckon if the Government put a time crunch on something I didn’t want to do, I’d probably panic a bit.” Nick pinched his thigh playfully, “Maybe a lot, I’d probably panic a lot. It’d probably involve copious amounts of vodka and a date with the porcelain God.” 

“Did that too.” Harry mumbled, smiling slightly at the teasing. “‘’Cept it was whisky, we’re not all trying to relive our youth.” 

“_Relive_? You’re still living it.” Nick rolled his eyes, “Unlike me, who can only access the memories of begging grown men to buy me a bottle from the off license whilst throwing up stale vodka into my loo. You’ll understand when you turn 65 too.” 

Harry hugged him then, burying his face back in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and breathing him in. God he loved him so fucking much. He was still Nick and Harry was still Harry and nothing had dramatically changed. Nobody had, had a personality transplant. The world hadn’t turned upside down. Nick wasn’t like ordering him to kneel or something — not that he was aware that was a thing that happened — but you read stuff sometimes. 

“So ...what happens now?” he mumbled eventually, his stomach churning at the thought. He wasn’t sure what came next, only that he knew what the boys had said earlier and really — the ball was in Nick’s court here. 

“Well....as loathe as I am to admit that I don’t know everything — I think that’s partially up to you.” Nick shrugged, feigning casual but Harry could feel how tense his shoulders were. He knew he was stressed, knew that he didn’t want to upset Harry or make him angry. It was a flaw Nick had, but Harry loved him for it all the same. “I’m not the right Dom for you Popstar, I think we both know that don’t we? I mean — it’s why you asked me in the first place.” 

“You’re a good Dom….” Harry mumbled loyally, even though he honestly wasn’t sure if he was or not. 

Harry just didn’t know Nick in that capacity, he’d never looked at Nick with any kind of authority and he couldn’t say with any kind of confidence that he’d listen to rules that Nick gave him. 

Not on purpose. Not purely out of pointless rebellion or to make Nick feel bad. But because as much as he tried to deny it — biologically he was a Sub and biologically he needed what he needed. Harry wanted to know_ exactly_ where the lines were. He wanted to know _what_ they were, _where_ they were and understand with a surety that if he crossed them there’d be something consistent waiting at the other side. 

He wanted unconditional love in a world where it was fleeting and changed as fast as a tweet went live. He wanted to know without a doubt that he could fuck up spectacularly and that love and that consistency was still going to be there after he was done. He wanted stability. He wanted a lot of things he didn’t want to want. 

Harry’s life was crazy and maybe if he hadn’t ended up here, he wouldn’t need that kind of consistency, maybe he’d need a Dom like Nick who if he had any lines at all they were blurred — but Harry would never know, because his life was what it was. Nick wasn’t going to be able to give Harry what he needed, even if Harry didn’t want to need it. And as much as he was happy to ignore it, there were now a whole host of people who were determined Harry was going to get what he needed, whether he liked it or not. 

“I’m sure one day when I find my own Curly headed Popstar Sub I’ll be a good Dom ...but right now I’m not a good Dom for _you_. Cause that’s just not who we are together.” Nick squeezed him a little and Harry hated that this felt like a goodbye, even if it wasn’t. 

“Alright, enough of this serious stuff now. I didn’t drive all this way to get frown lines.” Nick squeezed his side and Harry let out a shallow laugh as he relaxed further into his hold. “Now, let’s see what crap TV we can binge on while we wait for your lads yeah? Don’t know if I’ll be able to focus though — pretty excited about being in a hotel room with all of One Direction. I’m living every fangirls wet dream.” 

\-----------

By the time the boys were done with the show, Harry had managed to watch three episodes of Nigella with Nick, throw a whole jar of peanuts at a hovering Paul and also get in a casual nap. He was honestly not sure what he did with his nights before the lads were around. It was rare that he spent it holed up in a hotel room on some kind of enforced rest, especially when he wasn’t actually sick. 

Maybe it was just the thought of the lads doing the show without him that had him out of sorts. He didn’t like being left out. He didn’t like the idea that maybe they could do this without him, that they didn’t _need_ him. He wasn’t as insecure as he once was, he didn’t google his name and read terrible comments like a weird masochist. But sometimes it lingered, more-so in the last year or so. Conveniently once he’d been classified and started living a lie. 

He’d felt distant from a lot of people he never had before. Like sometimes there was this crushing weight in his chest and a churning in his stomach that he just couldn’t shake. It wasn’t always there, the lads were physically affectionate just enough with one another that Harry could sneakily get a little of what he needed and stave off a drop. So yeah, he was a little bit restless, a little bit nervous that they’d come back and inform him they’d no longer need him in the band. 

It didn’t matter that it was irrational, none of it mattered when his brain went round and round like this. He wished he wasn’t used to the feelings, but he was. He’d been dealing with it for a year, he was practically a fucking expert. 

“Haz!” 

He looked up from his spot on the edge of the couch as the lads all piled in the room. Pink cheeked and damp haired from showers, buzzing with adrenaline that Harry wished he was too. There was nothing better than being on stage, than the high after a show. It was like nothing else. Harry might have made a lot of sacrifices for the fame, but hearing thousands of people sing along with them every night made it worth it. 

“We missed you!” 

“Payno definitely teared up singing your part.” 

“I had water in my eye!” 

Their voices all came at once, excited chatter like they hadn’t seen him in a year instead of a couple of hours and Harry couldn’t help the fond grin that spread over his face. It didn’t matter how deep into his head he got, everything somehow managed to work out just fine when they were together. Even though they knew his secret, even though he knew some kind of talk was coming. It was okay. 

It was okay because Naill was lying like a starfish on the floor, Zayn cross legged and peaceful on the armchair with Liam perched on the arm running his fingers through his hair. And Louis...Louis was striding over, perching on the arm of the couch, fingers immediately tangling in Harry’s curls and Harry was only a tiny bit ashamed of how he leant into it automatically. 

“Grimshaw.” Louis nodded towards Nick, his expression blank, eyes hard and Harry was honestly quite proud. He was showing restraint, even if his face was plotting murder. 

His face had probably already committed the murder to be honest. It was a very murdery face.

“Pleasant as always Tomlinson.” Nick simply rolled his eyes, swinging his legs off the couch to rest on the floor. As though he couldn’t quite bear to be so relaxed and vulnerable when Louis was around.

Harry didn’t really understand why they’d never gotten on. But he’d stopped trying to play the peacemaker. He didn’t like that the people he loved didn’t love each other, but it drove him crazy if he tried to analyse it. 

“How’s he been?” Harry frowned as Louis placed a hand on his forehead like he had the fucking flu or something, yet directed his question to Nick. 

“I’m literally right here.” he mumbled grumpily, adjusting his blanket over his lap. 

“Well you’ve not been the most honest about your health Haz, so forgive us for wanting to check.” Louis’ voice had that stern edge to it again and Harry fought the urge to apologise five thousand times and beg for more hair petting. 

Instead, he shrugged sheepishly, “....fair.” 

“Mate you missed a cracking fall tonight, Payno tried to do one of your spins and went flying.” Niall propped himself up on his elbows, face alight as he spoke and Harry wanted to _kiss_ him. He was a beautiful man Niall, beautiful and an expert as dissolving any tension in a room. “It was fucking great — I’ll show you when it’s on youtube later.” 

“Not everyone can have my style and grace….” Harry waved a hand in faux snobbery, before looking round at them all. “It was good though? The show?” 

“Yeah, was epic — missed you though — not the same without you mate.” Niall smiled at him, before tilting his head thoughtfully. “You good?” 

“Yeah Ni — I’m good.” he smiled, what he hoped was his best and most reassuring one. 

He wasn’t sure it worked though, because everyone just kind of looked at each other. It was like they were trying to communicate without speaking, except Zayn was barely paying attention, Liam just looked kind of constipated and Harry was far too nervous of his own reaction to look at Louis’ face. 

Nick had also missed the class on mind reading though. 

“Well some of us aren’t Popstars and have to drive five rotten hours back to London tonight to do a breakfast show on no sleep — so as much as I desperately want to avoid all serious conversation on account of the wrinkles I’m developing just at the thought — we should probably have a little chat yeah?” 

Harry winced, fingers playing with the frayed edges of the blanket just for something to fucking do with them. 

“...didn’t we already do that?” he asked cautiously. 

“Well let’s catch your boyfriends up shall we?” Nick smiled, shooting him a wink. “Harry and I came to the conclusion that we’re just not going to work out as Dom and Sub, on account of him having that face and me being a weak, weak man for teenage Popstars — that sounded horrific but we’re just not going to overthink it. Essentially, we’re a bad match.” 

“No shit.” Louis scoffed and Harry’s eyes widened against his will. 

“Louis.” Liam also _sounded_ constipated, and Harry was starting to get concerned about his bathroom habits. 

Maybe he should bring up the subject of fibre at some point. 

“So that leaves us in the predicament of needing someone to fill my very big shoes.” Nick continued as though nobody had interrupted at all, but Harry supposed he was used to delivering monologues on the daily. 

“Oh — no it’s fine. I already figured that out. We’re good.” Harry nodded, smiling at them widely. 

He was pretty sure it was working too, because Liam was straightening up, widening his shoulders and puffing out his chest, which Harry chose to take as a good sign and not a further tick in the constipation box. 

“You figured it out?” Zayn perked up then, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Liam calm down please, you look like you’re getting ready to sign up for the war and do your duty.” 

“Well it’s an _honour _to be someone’s guardian and I just want to — “ 

“_No_ — no I’m not looking for volunteers — _Jesus_.” Harry’s eyes widened in horror at what Liam was implying. He thought Harry had been about to appoint one of them or something. Like it was a fucking knighthood. “I’m just gonna you know — pay someone.” 

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room all of a sudden. Replaced instead by a thick tension as even Niall’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Harry didn’t like it. Seemed like witchcraft and not the cool kind. 

“Lads you can either sort him out, or I’m gonna.” Paul’s voice appeared suddenly and Harry had honestly forgotten he was even in the room. “Too fucking late for this much stupidity.” 

“_Paul_…” he whined, his toes curling in embarrassment. There was something about the older man that had all of them acting like twelve year olds around him. So Harry refused to be ashamed of the whining and channel all of his mortification into what Paul was implying. 

“We just talked about this Popstar….” Nick murmured his hand squeezing Harry’s ankle in a move Harry figured was supposed to be reassuring but he didn’t want to be touched right now when he was trying to be strong. 

“Yeah but I googled y’know? And there’s loads of people who get into this kinda situation. Found a few forums for it and let me tell you — that was an adventure and a part of the internet nobody ever needs to go down — “ he explained, setting the scene expertly just in case they decided not to jump on board with his plan. 

“Anytime Haz….” Louis drawled, his voice had a teasing edge but it wasn’t all there. Like he wanted to be using another tone entirely and Harry didn’t like that implication either. He decided to continue valiantly. 

“Anyway ...there's loads of people looking for a bit of extra income y’know? You pay them and they’ll sign the paperwork and that’s it — job’s done.” he finished with a flourish and a wave of his hand, only a little disappointed when nobody immediately jumped up to congratulate him on his well thought out solution. 

“So let me get this straight.” Liam frowned as though trying to solve a riddle, “You are saying that your solution to Nick not being an appropriate Dom because he can’t take care of you, is to hire a _random stranger_ to sign paperwork for you and _also_ never be around?” 

“...well yeah.” he shrugged, shifting a little in his seat. It didn’t sound so great when Liam put it like that. 

This wasn’t going to plan at all. 

“Right and ignoring all of that absolute bullshit, you’re willing to risk that stranger deciding that they _do_ actually want some kind of say in Harry Styles life. Y’know….since it’s fucking _legal_ because said famous Popstar _paid_ them to sign the paperwork?” Louis’ voice was a shock, as was the hand that curled around his chin and forced his eyes to meet stern blue ones. 

Harry wanted to melt into the sofa. He was sure if it was physically possible he would have done it already. 

“Well this is a load of horse shit.” Paul piped up from the corner, and honestly — was he just always _there_? “Grimshaw, assign me as secondary guardian and I’ll talk to his family tomorrow, make sure they know what’s going on.” 

“What? No — that’s not — it’s my decision.” Harry forced his head out of Louis’ grip, mouth agape as he stared at Paul. 

That was definitely not what he wanted to happen. He loved Paul. As much as he moaned about him, it was mainly just childish fun. They all did it. But he didn’t want to actively have to answer to him more so than the other boys. He didn’t want to feel different, he didn’t want things to change and he _definitely _didn’t want to have to abide by Paul’s rules which would probably be stricter than anyone else’s. 

Sometimes Paul yelled at them for not going to bed at a decent time. It was a whole thing. 

“Technically, if you’re gonna be a fucking idiot about it — Grimmy can assign a secondary guardian all he wants — you already gave him the permission.” Louis shrugged, like that was just a casual fact to throw out there all casual and stuff. As though Harry wasn’t about to die from this conversation alone. 

“Harry….” Nick’s voice was soft, as though only Harry could hear it. Like it was just for them, even though Harry knew the others were listening. “Don’t make me do that. Best mates remember? The whole point of this is so we don’t fuck it up.” 

“....and so he’s safe.” 

“Obviously, Tomlinson.” 

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair just for something to fucking _do_. He didn’t want to put Nick in an awkward position. He didn’t want there to be resentment between them and as much as he wouldn’t want to — if Nick went against what he wanted and assigned Paul, Harry wasn’t quite sure he’d forgive him. 

Well he would, of course he would. But maybe they wouldn’t survive that. They wouldn’t survive how Nick would feel being forced into that position. Harry was feeling horribly guilty just thinking about it. 

“Okay...if I — if I pick someone, we’re just gonna be normal yeah? Like — just the paperwork.” he tried eventually, glancing around the room hopefully. 

“Lads, I reckon Haz hit his head last night or something.” Niall sighed, flopping back onto the floor. “Honestly, it’s the only thing that explains this.” 

“Harry….” Liam started, using his very serious and very concerned Daddy Dom voice. 

“Oh God….” he mumbled, bracing himself for the worst. 

“I think we need to make something clear here.” Liam leant forward, somehow still managing to keep one hand resting on Zayn’s arm. “All of us love you and we all want the best for you.” 

“Which doesn’t include letting you run around doing yourself harm cause you’re too stubborn to take what you need when it’s being offered on a plate.” Niall piped up helpfully from the floor and if Harry still had peanuts, he’d throw one at him. 

Not super hard or anything, but enough so he’d know a peanut had been thrown at him. An _unfriendly_ peanut. That part was important. 

“You made a mistake with Nick — shut up Grimshaw it’s not about your ego — and none of us are going to agree to take on this responsibility without _actually_ taking on the responsibility.” Louis’ eyes were on him again and Harry wished he wasn’t standing, he wished he didn’t feel so small on the couch with Louis standing there being all stern. “You’re getting a Dom. You’re getting punished for last night and the last fucking year of lies and you’re getting rules going forward. That’s what’s happening.” 

Harry was just going to die. It was fine. 

“Tell Paul he isn’t allowed to look so smug.” he mumbled instead, because that part seemed important. 

He’d obviously lost this battle. He knew he’d lost and he required Paul to not look like his favourite footie team had just won the league. 

“No can do Curly, that’s just his natural face.” Louis reached out and ruffled his hair, before perching back on the arm of the couch and turning Harry’s chin towards him again. “Do you trust us Haz?” 

Harry never stood a fucking chance. He really didn’t. Not under the combined forces of all of them and not when they had a secret weapon in Louis and his stupid blue eyes and stupid face. 

It wasn’t even a little bit stupid. Harry felt terrible even thinking that. 

“Yes — of course I do — we’re brothers — “ he didn’t meet Louis’ eyes at that part, because that kind of felt like he was advocating for incest or something. 

He didn’t feel remotely brotherly about Louis. 

“Okay, then trust us with this yeah? It’ll be an honour.” Liam’s voice was soft, his eyes kind and understanding when Harry turned towards him. 

“What, all of you?” Harry frowned in confusion, glancing round the room. 

“All of us, or one of us — or Paul.” Louis shrugged once more, “Or get Robin or Gemma to take over from Nick and they’ll sort out the tour arrangements for you. Those are your choices here.” 

Harry hated Louis and his choices. Even if it made him feel weirdly safe. Louis just kind of laid stuff out like that. Let Harry know what the options were and he couldn’t drive himself crazy trying to find any other angle. Because he wanted this, _needed_ something deep down. But there was still the part of him that wanted to push and push. 

It was hard, sometimes he didn’t feel like he’d gotten to properly understand life and boundaries. He’d left home at sixteen and was thrust into the world of adulthood. But not _real_ adulthood. An adulthood in which someone else handled his personal affairs and even something as simple as a ride to a venue or meeting was sorted for him. Then he’d been a Dom for all intents and purposes and everyone assumed he was more than capable of looking out for himself. 

He was. He _could_. But he wouldn’t hate it if the lads looked out for him a bit too. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. If it came with hugs and stuff. Maybe some fruit. 

“Zayn?” Harry bit his lip, glancing at the other Sub carefully. Because he didn’t want to agree to anything, didn’t want to take any of Liam’s attention away from him unless Zayn was completely 100% okay with it. “Is this — are you?” 

“_Please_, take him off my hands for a while.” Zayn rolled his eyes fondly, smirking when Liam shot him a playfully stern look and Harry loved that Zayn always just fucking _knew_. He always knew without Harry having to explain the convoluted thoughts that were always in his head. 

“I don’t — I don’t know what to — “ he bit his lip, gesturing around the room helplessly. 

Because now he didn’t want to just _pick_ someone. It felt a bit like playing favourites and what if someone was upset? What if Liam really _did _want it to be him and Harry didn’t pick him and then he was hurt? Or _worse_, what if he picked Louis but he didn’t actually want to and then he felt obligated? Or Niall and that stopped him from finding an actual Sub? 

His agony must have shown on his face because Nick was squeezing his ankle again and speaking. 

“Alright Popstar, I’m just going to pick all three of them yeah? Save you having to hurt anyone’s ego and you lot can figure the rest out amongst yourselves.” he stood then, brushing off his jeans as though it was that easy. It was that casual. He’d made the decision for him and Harry kind of wanted to kiss him. “I’m not going to stick around for the particulars, got a long drive and all that good stuff.” 

Everyone waved half heartedly, and Harry assumed they didn’t want to break whatever this fragile truce was. A decision had been made, but until Nick left the room it wasn’t quite official. Maybe it could change. 

“Text me tomorrow so I know you’re still alive yeah?” Nick murmured, reaching out to ruffle Harry’s curls. “We’ll go out when you’re back in London.” 

“Okay…” he murmured, biting his lip as he looked up at his friend. “Nick? I’m sorry…” 

“Me too.” Nick pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and Harry tried not to preen when Louis stiffened beside him. “Alright I’m off lads, I’ll leave you to your orgies or whatever naughty activities you lot get up to behind the scenes.” 

With a couple more goodbyes and waves from the other lads, the hotel room door was closing and Nick was gone. Just like that. Leaving Harry with the fact that he’d essentially just agreed for his best mates to be his Dom Guardians for however the fuck long. 

“I’m off to bed fella’s.” Paul interrupted his inner turmoil from the doorway, where he was still apparently standing, much to Harry’s dismay. “Look after him yeah? And Styles? _Behave_. And don’t ever bloody scare me like that again or paperwork or not you’ll be over my knee faster than you can call your lawyer.” 

Paul shot him a look, and Harry felt his cheeks burning so wildly he was pretty sure he could fry an egg on them. He could only stare wide eyed as Paul also left the room, before lying fully on the couch and pulling the blanket up over his face. 

“...well that was mortifying. Just going to die now, don’t panic. I’ll be fine. Death is honestly the only way for me now.” 

He ignored the laughs that followed, even if they made his stomach squirm happily. Even if Louis budged him over and manoeuvred it so he was sitting on the couch with Harry’s head resting on his lap, blanket pushed back down.

Because this was nice, it was normal. To laugh when they were embarrassed, and maybe the cuddle with Louis wasn’t completely all normal now. But it was like they’d gone back in time to a year ago and Harry was ecstatic to be there. 

“Haz...we’ve gotta talk about what’s going to happen now.” Louis murmured softly after they’d all settled down, his fingers carding through his hair. 

“No thank you.” he answered politely, tilting his head up for more pets just in case Louis took that as a cue to stop. 

“C’mon mate, it’s not that bad yeah?” Niall commented and Harry turned his head enough to fix Niall with his very best unamused look. “That’s a shit glare bud, you just look kinda constipated.” 

Well. That fibre talk was definitely going to happen at some point. 

“Harry, we’ll figure this all out properly tomorrow but I think before we do we need to deal with a couple of things yeah?” Liam offered and his voice still sounded kind and understanding, but Harry had a pretty good idea of what he meant by ‘deal with’ and he 100% did not want that to be a thing. 

“Oh God.” he groaned, closing his eyes tightly as though he could somehow fall into a deep sleep by force of will alone. 

“Curly look at me.” Harry sighed, opening his eyes to look up at Louis. Because he didn’t have a choice. Not with that quietly stern voice. “You’re going to get spanked. Not because we’re angry, not because we’re enjoying this. But because you need it, because we love you and we want what’s best for you.” 

He really regretted opening his eyes. He regretted everything. 

“You don’t need to do that — I don’t — “ he rambled, sitting up so fast he almost knocked heads with Louis. 

Maybe he could leave and go live in a forest somewhere. He did yoga. He could be zen. He could be someone who talked to trees and did other zen like activities and didn’t have his best mates and the boy he was terribly in love with telling him he was going to get spanked. 

“It’s happening. You’re getting a spanking.” Louis’ voice was firm, even as he reached for Harry’s hand and squeezed softly. He was an intoxicating mix of soft and strict and Harry didn’t know what to _do_ with that. He did wish he’d stop saying that word though, that word that made Harry feel like a naughty kid, made him feel all squirmy and weird. Guilty too. “We’ve not discussed how this is going to work and it’s your first time, so you pick whoever is going to make you feel the most comfortable yeah?” 

“Please — I don’t want to — “ he looked around the room desperately, like someone was going to save him from this terrible fate. But nobody was moved. Even Niall just raised his eyebrows and Harry didn’t understand why none of his innocent looks ever worked anymore. 

“Curly. This is the only choice you’re getting.” Louis reached for his chin once more, keeping his hand there so Harry couldn’t look away and Harry didn’t know what it was about the eye contact Louis loved so much....but it was really fucking effective. “You choosing whether or not you can cope on your own is off the table. It’s no longer an option so you might as well stop thinking about it. You’re getting a spanking tonight, it’s up to you if you pick what’s gonna make it suck less for you, or one of us just does it right now.” 

Oh _God_. It was going to happen. It was really really going to happen, because Louis had given him those fucking choices again. Those choices that didn’t include any Harry wanted to make. He _knew_ he wanted to pick Louis. He knew deep down he wanted Louis to do it. He wanted an awful lot from Louis but he’d settle for that. 

Only, Louis had, had Subs before. He had Sub siblings and he’d had the odd fling here and there that only lasted a couple of weeks or months. He had experience with everything that entailed. Harry wasn’t sure if you could be bad at being spanked, especially when it wasn’t like a sexy fun kind. But he was suddenly plagued with the fear that maybe he _would_ be. 

Maybe he’d be really fucking bad at being disciplined and Louis would be disappointed, or hate him, or change his mind on this agreement and even though Harry hated this — he hated the idea of that more. 

“....Liam.” the name was out of his mouth before he’d properly thought it through and if everyone looked shocked they did a good job at trying to hide it. 

“Harry….” Zayn’s voice broke through his mild panic, his tone knowing and somewhat of a warning and for a second Harry was confused. Because Zayn had said he didn’t mind if Liam helped Harry out. It wasn’t like it was sexual. So he didn’t understand the questioning tone. 

“Zayn.” Liam’s voice was sharp, a clear warning and Zayn settled back against the chair with an eye roll and a shrug that implied they were all digging their own grave. 

Harry just didn’t understand what kind of Grave. 

“Good Boy, you did good.” Louis stood from the couch then, ruffling his hair and leaning against the wall instead. 

He seemed weird. Casual but not. Leaning against the wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, yet his shoulders were tense in a way that made Harry want to give him a massage. Like he was playing a part right now, but Harry didn’t know what part he was playing or what he was covering up. He wanted to ask him, he wanted to understand every single part of Louis, but he figured now wasn’t really the time. 

“Alright….” Liam broke the silence then, standing as he glanced once to Louis and Harry didn’t understand what that was about either. Only that Louis gave Liam a small shrug and a subtle nod and the other Dom seemed to get what he needed from that because he was then holding his hand out towards Harry. “C’mon then Haz...let’s go to mine and Zayn’s room yeah? You can sleep with us after.” 

_After. _

After Liam disciplined him. After he_ spanked_ him. After he put him over his knee and smacked his arse until Harry cried and Harry was pretty sure he 100% did not have the capacity to take Liam’s hand in acknowledgement that he was walking to that. He’d agreed to it in theory. He hadn’t really thought through the practical application. 

It was _Liam_ ...and Liam was a good Dom, he was a _great_ Dom. But Harry didn’t _want_ to get spanked. He didn’t want his best mate to take him over his knee and — oh God he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it even if he deserved it, even if it was supposed to help him. 

“_Liam_….” his voice came out in a quiet whine, as he shoved his own hands under his thighs. Like if he somehow hid his hands, then Liam wouldn’t be able to take it and then he wouldn’t have to go. 

It wasn’t the smartest plan he’d ever had, but he only had desperation to work with. 

“Harry Edward Styles.” Liam was still holding his hand out, eyebrows raising as he looked him sternly and Harry just wanted to die. Not actively die but maybe just cease to exist for as long as it took for Liam to forget about this. “Take my hand and let’s go.” 

He couldn’t do anything but shift awkwardly and let out another low whine. Apparently he’d lost the ability to speak and could only provide sound effects to his abject misery instead. His cheeks were burning something fierce. He was aware of all the eyes on him. He could feel Zayn’s assessing gaze, Niall’s curiosity tinged with amusement, Louis’ clear focus and Liam’s stern look all on him as he tried to whine his way out of being punished. 

He didn’t know if this was the way it was supposed to feel, and he knew they all did everything together and Liam wasn’t punishing him in front of everyone or anything. But he was embarrassed _anyway_, mainly of himself. But also because he was the one making it _worse_. Liam wouldn’t be scolding him if he would just stand up and do what he’d agreed was going to happen. But it was too late now, he’d taken some weird stand that involved whining and sitting on his hands and this was apparently the hill he was choosing to die on. 

“Haz…” he jumped at the sound of Louis’ voice, noticing for the first time that he was crouched in front of him, his hands resting on his knees. “You know you need to do this. So you need to take a breath, stand up and go with Liam now.” 

“Lou….” Harry almost whimpered, his voice pleading as he met Louis’ eyes, like somehow Louis was going to tell him he didn’t have to. 

“_No_ Haz.” Louis’ voice was firm and Harry squirmed under his intense gaze. “You’re going to get a spanking, that isn’t up for debate. Now you can stand up and go with Liam and get it over with, or you can keep this up and get yourself in more trouble. What’s it going to be?” 

Harry would have been okay if he hadn’t used that word. _Spanking._ If he wasn’t being so calm and firm and reasonable and making Harry want to crawl out of his own skin. Louis was everything he’d wanted since he was sixteen. He was the person who had always made Harry feel the most secure and when he’d initially gotten his classification, before he’d spoken to management — he’d been so sure that maybe everything between them was going to finally be clarified. 

He’d been so sure that Louis was going to be his Dom and everything was going to continue as it had for almost the two years they’d known one another — only it hadn’t. It hadn’t and the affection Harry had always craved changed into what a Dom would want, only Harry had never _been_ a real Dom and it wasn’t what he wanted. 

So this? This was overwhelming. Because Harry didn’t want this both on a surface level of embarrassment and just plain not wanting to be spanked. But Louis was being the Louis he had always wanted, yet it wasn’t Louis’ hand he was going to take and Harry once again had made a terrible choice out of stubbornness or something. 

“Haz mate, you’re gonna have to get into those skinny jeans tomorrow….” Niall piped up from where he was perched on the chair and Harry was never going to get Niall a hangover breakfast ever again. 

Well maybe he would, but he was going to make sure it was only luke warm and that would show him. 

“Let me talk to him.” Zayn’s voice broke through the anarchy in Harry’s mind and Harry was quite proud of how the other lad held up under the identical stares of the three Doms in the room as they all turned to him. 

“Just — “ Zayn held his hands up, as he stood. “Give us five minutes yeah? Sub to Sub, go wait outside and let me talk to him.” 

Harry was going to _marry_ Zayn. He was going to marry him and find a way to get pregnant and have his fucking babies. He was going to do it and they’d live as independent subs in love and never be in this kind of situation ever again. He was going to marry him so fucking hard, even more so as the room cleared out and even Louis, with one last searching look of Harry’s face rose to his feet and left along with the others. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry let out the breath he’d been holding and fixed Zayn with his very best dimpled smile, so Zayn would know just how grateful Harry was for his entire existence. 

“You’re the best, you’re my favourite.” he breathed, shaking out the pins and needles in his hands. 

“I’m not getting you out of it, you know that right?” Zayn simply stayed where he stood, leaning beautifully against the wall like he was a fucking piece of art. “It’s going to happen Haz. I couldn’t change their mind even if I wanted to ...which I don’t.” 

“Zayn….” he breathed, shoulders slumping as the dread returned and he must have cut a pathetic figure because Zayn walked over to sit next to him. 

“Harry....you know how many bad decisions you made.” Zayn stated simply, as though that was just fact and it was. But Harry didn’t like every fact in the world. That being one of them. 

“....but it’ll hurt.” Harry whined and he could feel himself blushing at the childish tone to his voice. 

Zayn thankfully didn’t comment on that, simply rolled his eyes as he nudged Harry’s shoulder with his own. 

“You hurt yourself every single night when you fall on your arse on stage.” 

“Not the same.” he mumbled petulantly and he really wished he could stop with whatever this tone was. 

But he couldn’t help it. They were literally talking about how he was going to be spanked and it was going to hurt, Harry couldn’t have felt much more like a child if he tried. 

“Yeah ...I know.” Zayn patted his knee sympathetically and Harry was surprised it didn’t feel patronising. He guessed maybe because if anyone knew what it was like, Zayn did. “Yeah it’ll probably hurt, and you’re probably not gonna enjoy it mate. But you feel better after y’know? You just — you feel better.” 

“I already feel better….” 

“No you don’t….” Zayn shook his head, shooting Harry a knowing look that Harry decided there and then he hated. Zayn was still beautiful, but he still hated that look. “Harry you don’t get it yet because you haven’t _had_ this and that’s fucking heartbreaking mate, it is. But trust me yeah? That feeling under your skin and that — that loneliness and unsettled feeling that just doesn’t quit? It’ll go.” 

Harry couldn’t imagine that, he couldn’t imagine feeling anything other than restless and unsure. He couldn’t imagine not feeling alone deep down, even when surrounded by other people. It seemed bizarre, what Zayn was saying. Even more so hearing it come from Zayn, who was one of the most quietly independent people that Harry knew. 

Although, he guessed maybe quiet independence could lead to aching loneliness and a deep seated need to seek affection you were scared to ask for. Kind of made sense actually — that Zayn was a sub. 

Zayn must have taken his lack of a verbal response as some sort of cue because he was speaking again and all Harry could do was listen with wide eyes. Listen as the world kept moving when he just wanted to stay still and ignore it. 

“Alright, so we’re going to get Liam back in here yeah and he’s going to deal with this?” Zayn started and Harry could only shake his head in desperation, Zayn not understanding his reluctance as he continued speaking. “He’ll be fair Haz, trust me ...I should know.” 

“No it’s not — I mean — “ he broke off, his tongue tied in his mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, because yeah whilst he wasn’t going to be asking for fucking discipline any time soon — even the thought of asking for _who_ he wanted to do it was mortifying. “Lou….” 

He didn’t even know if it was an option anymore. Seemed a bit weird to just be picking a person to deliver discipline he didn’t want. But if it was anyone, if it absolutely _had_ to happen and Harry didn’t have a choice. Then he wanted it to be Louis. He wanted Louis to hold him when he cried and murmur nice things in his ear. He wanted to sleep in Louis’ bed and pretend he was sixteen again in his X Factor bunk. 

He wanted so many things he couldn’t have, but maybe he could find a little bit of something in this situation. 

“Oh.” Zayn simply raised his eyebrows, shooting Harry another knowing look and if Harry wasn’t about to quite literally get his arse handed to him — he’d maybe give Zayn a sternish lecture about that. Or write him a strongly worded text or something. “Well that’s a relief, because I was honestly worried for the future of the band if Liam did it.” 

Zayn stood and started to make his way to the door and Harry frowned as he stared after him, standing too as he reached an arm out to touch him or something. The last thing he wanted was to make Zayn feel insecure with Liam. He hadn’t ever meant to like, steal his Dom or something. 

“Zayn — I didn’t mean — I’d never try and take Li—” he was cut off as Zayn laughed, turning to face him, his hand still resting on the door handle. 

“It’s not me who’d be getting jealous….” he commented, and before Harry even had a chance to contemplate what the fuck that even meant he was opening the door and speaking to his hovering bandmates. “Lou, you’re up.” 

\-------------

To their credit, nobody commented on the change. Liam simply kissed him on the forehead and told him to be good, Niall ruffled his hair and shot him a wink and Louis didn’t say anything at all until the door closed behind them and it was just them. Harry was really fucking grateful for their subtlety honestly, because if any of them had asked him why he’d changed his mind, he didn’t think he had it in him to tell them. 

He felt like maybe they knew, or they knew something he didn’t. There’d been enough knowing looks and silent communication between them the last day or so to hint at it. But Harry figured he wasn’t currently in a position to be in the know. In the metaphorical dog house or whatever. Honestly, he should just be grateful it wasn’t Paul standing here right now. 

“You’re not about to be executed Haz.” Louis broke the silence first, shooting him an amused look as he stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. “It’s me and you yeah? You’re gonna be fine, you’ve gotta calm down.” 

Harry melted into him, couldn’t help it. He didn’t care what it looked like or what impression he was going to give the other lad. Because it was _Louis_. It was Louis and ever since he found out, it’d been like they were again, his touch was weighted once again. It didn’t feel like the touch between two Doms who happened to be best mates. 

He got it, he did....Louis had thought he was a Dom and he’d adjusted his behaviour to what it should be. He’d adjusted to make it easier for Harry to get used to his classification. It wasn’t Louis’ fault his classification had been a complete lie and Harry felt fucking terrible that maybe he’d been depriving Louis of his needs too. 

“I really, really don’t want this Lou….” Harry murmured, because he didn’t. He really didn’t want to be spanked, but he figured the whole fucking world was aware of that by now he’d said it so much. 

“I know, you don’t want it but you need it ...and I’m all about giving you what you need Haz.” Louis pulled back, smiling at him softly as he tucked a stray curl behind his ear. Harry wanted to melt into the carpet. It was fine. He was fine. “Kills me that I haven’t been.” 

“You didn’t know….” 

“Reckon I should’ve though….” Louis frowned, shaking his head and Harry wanted to kiss that frown away. Probably wasn’t the time though. “I always thought — before you were classified — I thought you were gonna — “ 

The rest of the sentence went unsaid. Harry didn’t need him to say it. He didn’t really want him to. Not right now. Because maybe he’d finish that sentence in a way Harry didn’t want him to. In a way he couldn’t take right now when he already had to get through this mortifying experience. 

Maybe if he didn’t hear the end of what Louis was saying right now he could pretend it was what he wanted to hear. That Louis had, had ideas about their relationship too. That he’d been disappointed in the fake classification. That there was a reason he hadn’t registered a bond with any of his short term relationships. Harry wanted to be that reason, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved to be. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you Lou….” he breathed, eyes wide as he looked at the other lad. He needed him to know, he needed him to understand that he meant it. He didn’t think he’d ever been more sorry about anything in his life. “Really, I regretted it as soon as I showed you that paperwork and I just — “ 

“Shh, I know…” Louis just shook his head, cupping his face gently in his hands and Harry wasn’t sure how one touch could make him feel so safe but it did. “...and we’re gonna deal with it all now okay?” 

There it was. Why they were here. To _deal_ with it. 

Harry wanted cry. He wanted to yell and maybe stomp a foot if it meant he could get out of it. He wasn’t going to obviously, on account of the fact he wasn’t five — but he was that desperate he had considered it for ten seconds. 

He didn’t though, instead he squared his shoulders, the memory of Louis calling him a good boy playing round and round his head as he nodded. 

“I — right, yeah ...okay.” 

The smile Louis rewarded him with made it worth it. It lit up his eyes and he looked so so beautiful, he looked like Harry had given him the world. Harry wanted to make him smile like that all of the time. 

“There’s a good lad, it’ll be over before you know it.” 

He didn’t even have time to bask in the good lad that Louis had offered because there was a hand in his. A strong and sure hand pulling him firmly towards the bed and all Harry could do was follow blindly. He really wanted the walk to take longer than the three seconds it did. But then Louis was sitting on the edge, moving Harry to stand at the side of him and _fuck_ — fuck it was happening. 

“Lou…” he whimpered, staring down at Louis’ lap with something akin to horror because what was he supposed to _do_? He’d never done this before and yeah, he got the logistics kind of. He’d even witnessed one memorable time Liam pulled Zayn over his lap on the bus. 

He’d been getting water and they hadn’t known he was there and he’d made a run for it the second he realised what he was seeing. Always incredibly uncomfortable and a little jealous with any display of anyone’s classification. 

So he got that in theory he was probably supposed to be over Louis’ lap. But there was a difference between _knowing_ that and actively being able to put himself there. Which he could not. No amount of mental pep talk was going to send him over Louis’ lap by himself. 

Louis seemed to realise quickly though, because the next second he was reaching up and loosening the tie of Harry’s sweatpants. That meant they were coming down then. Fuck. Harry wanted to die. 

“C’mon, I’ll help you.” Louis murmured, and before Harry had a chance to panic at the thought of losing what little protection he’d had, Louis was gripping his arm and guiding him over his lap. “You’re okay, you’re doing just fine love.” 

His upper body rested on the bed, arse up over Louis’ lap and whilst it was mortifying, there was also something really safe and right about it that Harry couldn’t quite place. He rested his head in his arms, happy to have somewhere to hide his burning face. It was pretty comfortable for all intents and purposes, Harry just wished he was in this position for any other reason. 

He was doing pretty well he thought, would have given himself a pat on the back if that wouldn’t look fucking weird right now. That was, until Louis’ fingers wrapped around the waistband of his sweatpants and Harry’s hand flew back so fast he was pretty sure he might have given himself whiplash. 

“Lou….” he whined, his face burning from where it was still buried in the crook of his elbow. It made no sense really. 

Harry had absolutely no issue being naked at any time. He took great enjoyment in it actually. But aside from the fact it would probably just hurt more, he hated the idea of being bare arsed over Louis’ lap for a spanking. Like it was really happening. It was real and he was actually in trouble and this was a fucking thing that was going to happen. 

“They’re coming down Haz.” Louis stated firmly, and Harry felt strong fingers wrap around his wrist, pressing his hand to the small of his back. “I’m going to give you two choices here Harry. I can let go and you can get comfortable and bury your head in your arms. _Or_, I can let go and you can reach back again and you’re going to be doing this while I hold your arms right here.” 

Harry could only whine, because quite frankly he didn’t want either of those options and Louis was being so stern. He knew Louis had this in him, knew he was always the sternest one with management, the most outspoken. They joked about Liam being Daddy Direction, but Louis was the protector. Always. He was made to be a Dom. 

Harry should hate it. He should be mortified. And part of him was. But Louis was so clear in what the lines were. Harry knew _exactly_ where the line was and what would happen if he crossed it and was free to make that choice knowing without a doubt Louis was going to follow through. 

It made him feel all warm and squirmy. 

“Sorry Lou….” he mumbled, and that must have been enough of an answer because Louis let go of his wrist with a little reassuring squeeze and Harry went right back to burying his head in both of his arms contentedly. 

“Good boy.” Louis murmured and Harry felt his feet kick a little at those words and he’d be embarrassed but he heard Louis’ sharp intake of breath and quiet murmur of _fuck that’s cute_, and he was feeling far too floaty to care about his ego. 

Before he had chance to bask in the praise fully, Louis’ hand was back in the waistband of his sweats, and Harry didn’t even have time to panic before they were tugged down to mid thigh, his boxers following a second later. He didn’t throw his hand back this time, and was pretty proud when he only managed a minor whine as the cool air hit his arse. 

It helped that he could hide his burning face in his arms, also that Louis was talking and Harry was pretty sure he was supposed to pay attention. 

“I think we’ve talked about why this is happening enough don’t you?” Louis asked, and Harry had the feeling that was a hypothetical question. But he nodded into his arms anyway, wincing when Louis pinched his side lightly. “Verbal answer please Harry.” 

“Yeah Lou….” he mumbled, and he wasn’t sure why Louis thought Harry lying bare arsed over his lap was a great time to have a conversation — but apparently he was subscribed to that ethos. 

“Thank you. I’m not going to go over it again, but I want you to think about why you’re here and when we’re done you can say your sorries and it’ll be over alright?” Louis’ hand was stroking lightly over his lower back and Harry was struggling to focus on anything other than that, but since Louis wanted to be a conversationalist, he answered anyway. 

“Yeah Lou ...I'll think about it.” he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else and also that Louis couldn’t read his mind. But the idea of not doing what the Dom wanted right now was something so foreign, Harry was already trying to make a list in his head of all his misdeeds he needed to think about. 

Harry wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, he really didn’t have a frame of reference, but the first smack that came down on his right cheek took his breath away. 

_It hurt_. A sharp pain that bloomed for a second before subsiding. He’d barely had time to open his mouth and take a breath before the same happened on the opposite cheek and _fuck_ but it hurt. 

There was no let up between spanks. Harry didn’t know if this was Louis’ usual style or a special kind of torture reserved for him alone. But Harry didn’t have chance to panic, or do much of anything except _feel_ it. And fuck, but he could feel it. It was always the same, the same intensity, the same pace, back and forth over and over again until Harry’s breaths were tied to the same rhythm automatically. 

Any attempt at being stoic or keeping whatever dignity being bare arsed over someone’s lap afforded you went right out the fucking window. If it was a tactic it was a clever one. 

“Fuck — Lou — _please_ — “ he whined, twisting the bedsheets in his fingers as he tried his best not to reach back and he wasn’t even sure what he was asking for. Only that it _hurt_ and he didn’t _like_ it and he regretted everything. 

“You’re supposed to be thinking Harry.” was all Louis said, firm spanks continuing to reign down in that terrible rhythm, the only inconsistency being the sting that intensified whenever a spot was repeated. “We’re not even _nearly_ done here, so I’d find something to focus on.” 

Harry wanted to cry. He wanted to cry at that statement alone because how could they not be nearly done? It already hurt and he was _sorry,_ he was definitely sorry. Harry needed Lou to know that he was, that he didn’t need anymore because it hurt and he was sorry, so sorry and he’d never fuck up like that again. 

“I’m _sorry_ — Lou — I’m really sorry — “ he tried, voice hoarse with the effort it was taking not to cry. Harry had never really had much shame, and quite frankly he was willing to beg and plead pretty soon to get this to end. 

“We’re not ready for sorries yet. Keep thinking.” was all Louis said, landing a particularly vicious smack to his upper thigh that had Harry crying out, the sound muffled in his arm. 

The thing is he knew, he knew that he’d fucked up spectacularly for a long time. He’d known the second Modest mentioned lying to the public that he was going to take it one step further. Ten steps further really. He’d known somewhere deep down when he’d done it that he wanted someone to stop him. That it was a test to people who didn’t know they were being tested and Harry didn’t know who it was even _for_ either. He’d wanted something he didn’t understand at the time. It had all been so new to him then. Still was really. 

He’d wanted someone to stop him. He always wanted someone to stop him. He wanted to hit some kind of immovable wall, something unchangeable because there was safety in that. There was safety and security in consistency and that’s all Harry wanted. 

He’d pushed and pushed and finally someone was pushing back and it fucking hurt. It hurt and he hated it but he also loved it and that was confusing. It was _all_ confusing but there wasn’t really any time to dwell on confusion, because Louis was spanking him with such regularity that the only thing that made sense was that. The only thing that mattered right now were the mistakes he’d made and how they were being corrected. 

He’d lied. He’d lied so much and he’d pushed so far and he hadn’t taken care of himself. He’d let fame affect his well being and who he wanted to be, who he was literally born as. He’d let it affect his relationships and the people he cared about and made him doubt their love. He’d put himself in danger, he’d worried them, he’d pushed and pushed and Louis was pushing back and Harry loved him for it. 

He _loved_ him, but his arse hurt something fierce and he was_ sorry_. He didn’t want to be spanked anymore, he didn’t want to be in trouble. He wanted a cuddle. He wanted to make it better and for Louis to _know_ that he was sorry. He was sobbing into his arms and kicking his legs without even realising. Because it _hurt_ and he was sorry.

“Are you a Dom Harry?” Louis’ voice cut through his inner trauma, and Harry was forced to sniff back a particularly loud whining sob and listen. 

“No — no Lou — “ he sobbed, shaking his head desperately, because he’d never felt less like a Dom in his entire life. Frankly, he didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to ever feel like that again. 

“No. You’re not, that’s right.” Harry was pretty sure the spanks were more sound than anything else now, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because Louis was still spanking him and his arse burned and he was so so sorry. “You’re a Sub and that’s beautiful. That’s a beautiful, special thing Harry.” 

“I know — I’m sorry — “ 

“We’re not saying sorry yet.” Louis landed yet another stinging swatt to his upper thigh and Harry could only sob into the bedsheet, because it wasn’t _fair_. He wanted to say sorry _so much_, he wanted Lou to know he was sorry, he was so sorry and he wanted to be a good boy. “It’s beautiful being a Sub. _You’re_ beautiful and what you need is nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t _ever _want to see you ignoring your needs again Harry, because we’ll be back here _every single time_ you do. Do you understand me?”

“_Yes_ — yes Lou — won’t — won’t — I’ll be good — “ he rambled desperately, because he wasn’t ashamed. He really wasn’t.

Maybe he’d felt deep down that he _should_ be, that there was a reason they wanted him to keep it quiet but what he’d _really_ wanted was to feel loved. He wanted to love his classification and be loved for it in return. He wanted to feel safe. 

He felt safe now. His arse hurt something fierce and he wanted to say sorry so badly but he felt safe. He felt warm and secure, like a weight had been lifted that he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying for so long. He didn’t feel the aching loneliness that always seemed to be present, or the restless buzzing under his skin. He felt ashamed of his behaviour but not of what he was and he didn’t feel scared Louis was going to abandon him because he’d been bad. 

It was like something broke then. Something that _needed_ to. Like a restraint that had been wrapped so tightly around him for so long he’d barely felt it anymore. He’d gotten so used to living with the restricted breathing, with the weight of it, that he’d forgotten there was anything else. He wasn’t sure if it was a physical feeling or something mental — maybe both. But it broke, it broke and Harry could _breathe_. 

He sobbed then. _Really_ sobbed. Sobs that were loud and guttural and they felt good. Even though his eyes stung along with his arse, even though his throat hurt and his face felt tight. He sobbed and felt that weight lift completely until he was just a boy who’d been naughty like Liam had said. Until he wasn’t carrying the weight of secrets and guilt. He was just _Harry_. Crying over Louis’ lap because he had a sore arse and wanted to say sorry. 

“Shh there you go, that’s it…” Louis’ voice was soft, tender in a way Harry barely ever got to hear anymore and it took him a second to realise he’d stopped spanking him. His hand instead was running over his arse softly, soothing over what Harry suspected was very red skin. “It’s alright Love, you’re okay.” 

“_Lou_….” he sobbed, reaching a hand back palm up, because it was all he could do. He couldn’t turn and face him properly, but he wanted him to know. He wanted to tell him so badly. 

“I know Love, I know.” Louis murmured, taking his hand and squeezing softly. “Do you want to say something to me hm? Go ahead, you can say it.” 

“I’m _sorry_ — Lou — so sorry — so so sorry — I won’t — I won’t _ever_ — “ he sobbed out, so relieved to say it out loud and be _allowed_ to. Louis’ hand in his the absolute best thing that had ever happened in his life. 

“That’s it, such a good boy.” Louis reached down, righting his clothing and Harry winced as the cotton scraped over his sore arse. “All forgiven now Curly, you did so good, you were so good for me.” 

Harry could only sob. He could only cry as he basked in the weightlessness that Louis’ words caused. He _forgave_ him. He’d said sorry and now he was forgiven and Lou had said he was a good boy. He hadn’t properly believed Zayn before about how it was supposed to feel. But Harry felt free, he felt free and unburdened and he honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever felt like that before. 

“C’mon Love, let’s get you comfy hm? C’mon and get your cuddles, I think you’ve earned it.” Harry barely even registered himself being moved, tried to assist as best he could and the effort it took to move his heavy limbs was so worth it when he was lying against Louis’ chest, stretched out on the bed with strong arms wrapped around him. 

“So good. Such a good boy.” Louis was murmuring, one hand carding through his hair as the other drew aimless patterns against the skin of his back and Harry wanted to melt into him. “My good boy. My Hazza.” 

Harry was practically _preening_. Louis was saying everything he wanted to hear with such sincerity and Harry believed every word. Even though his arse was sore and sitting was going to be a fucking nightmare — he was a good boy. He was _Louis’ _good boy and it was okay right now in whatever capacity that was. It was okay, because he was Louis’ good boy and his Hazza and that’s all Harry wanted to be. 

“Love you, Lou….” he mumbled, just in case Louis didn’t know. Just in case he was in any doubt that he’d spanked Harry and now he was mad or something. Because Louis should be able to feel this good too. Louis should feel the kind of unconditional acceptance that Harry felt — even if Harry’s came along with a sore bum. 

“Love you too Curly.” Louis’ voice sounded kind of funny, hoarse like it did when he’d tried to sing too high. But Harry was too tired to investigate that properly. In the morning he’d get him some lemon and honey tea and take care of him properly. “You rest now, c’mon Curly close your eyes.” 

Harry didn’t need to be told twice, he closed his eyes happily. He felt tired in the best way. Warm, heavy and comfortable and yet completely boneless all at the same time. He felt safe and taken care of, like he could sleep and everything was going to be okay It didn’t take long to feel himself drifting off, Louis’ voice murmuring lovely things to him, skilled fingers running through his hair and a throbbing arse that Harry wouldn’t take back for the world right now.   



	3. Avoiding both cat and bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for the response so far to this story. I absolutely love hearing your thoughts, theories and what you'd like to see moving forward. I can't explain to you how much it encourages me to be a little speedy and I really love having a chat in the comments because I wasn't kidding when I said I was new to this fandom. 
> 
> Please do let me know if you're enjoying this so far, or if there's anything you'd really like to see! 
> 
> Apologies this chapter took a little longer, it's been Pride here and I had a very busy, very drunken weekend. 
> 
> Apologies for the inconsistent lengths with chapters, I prefer to break at places that make sense than word count, but let me know if you'd rather just have chapters all the same length.

It’s not that Harry was avoiding his band mates. Because that would be immature and also a little rude. It wasn’t _his_ fault that they’d all had to shuffle out of the hotel at stupid o’clock to drive to Leeds and Harry had conveniently gotten on the second bus. If he’d done that before any of them could notice and it was too late for them to change too — well that was simply a coincidence and wasn’t at all his fault. 

He wasn’t _avoiding_ them. He had woken up with Louis that morning and it’d been nice. They’d taken it in turns to shower, Louis had ruffled his hair and Harry had blushed a little and then he’d gone back to his own room to quickly pack up his things and head to the buses. He hadn’t really had time to formulate a plan on anything, or have any kind of reaction to the night before. Only, in-between leaving Louis and packing his things, he’d forced himself into skinny jeans and was abruptly reminded, by the slight sting in his arse, that he was now a person who had Doms. 

In the grand scheme of things, considering he’d been spanked by the person he was pretty sure he’d die for — he was okay. He felt lighter in a way, lighter than he had in a long time. He didn’t feel the buzzing under his skin, or the weight in his stomach. But he also didn’t want to talk about the _‘rules’_ or any of that right now. He _definitely_ didn’t want to talk about it with a sore arse as a reminder of why it was happening in the first place. 

So he wasn’t avoiding. He was simply visiting every single other member of staff on their tour. He was being _friendly_. Professional. Not remotely biding time in the venue until sound check and their performance. 

In fact, he was currently being very kind and accommodating to Caroline and had turned up to his fitting early. She was very busy. He was doing her a favour. 

“Alright babe, get those jeans off. I think we’ll try a bigger size.” The Dom waved another pair of identical black jeans at him, waiting expectantly. “C’mon, I’ve got to get through the lot of you today — I swear you all keep growing in the span of a week. I’m going to have to order more shirts for Niall.” 

“We’re growing boys….” Harry joked, smirking at her as he popped the button on the jeans. 

“It’s too early in the day for Penis jokes.” she reached over, smacking him over the head and Harry could only pout at her as he reached for the new jeans. “Come on you, get those off and we’ll see if they’ll fit Zayn — his legs are shorter than yours.” 

Usually, Harry had absolutely no issues stripping off in front of their stylist. She was a mate and he wasn’t exactly lacking in body confidence. Sometimes he found it funny to run around in his boxers whilst she chased him with clothes to try, threatening to tell Paul he was misbehaving. But usually, Harry hadn’t been spanked and he was pretty sure there was a not so pleasant pink hue at the top of his thighs that he didn’t really fancy explaining. 

“Uh — I’ll just go in here then — “ he mumbled, taking the jeans and making his way into the little curtained off cubicle they changed in. “Won’t be a sec.” 

If she thought it was weird, she didn’t say anything. Because she was lovely and Harry loved her and would now definitely turn up on time for all fittings ever.

He had one leg in the new pair of jeans when he heard the door open and a familiar Irish accent followed. 

“Caroline, you seen Haz?” 

Harry almost got his leg tangled in the material, stumbling back against the wall before he quickly righted himself and stuck his head out of the curtain just enough to give Caroline a wide eyed look and a desperate shake of the head. Niall thankfully had his back to the cubicle and Caroline being the absolute _angel_ that she was, simply rolled her eyes. 

“No darlin’, not since his fitting — is it something urgent?” Harry wanted to _kiss_ her, he wanted to fully appreciate everything she was. 

Maybe he’d write a sonnet about her. He wasn’t sure what made something a sonnet but he’d fucking google, he’d google _so hard_ and he’d do it all for Caroline. 

“Uh — no, not urgent.” Niall shook his head, glancing towards the door as though he now also wanted to escape. He was trying not to give anything away, Harry tried not to feel guilty about that. “He seem okay to you?” 

“If by okay you mean that he spent thirty minutes trying to persuade me he needs a different pair of Chelsea boots every night — then yes, he seemed okay.” Harry would be impressed by her ability to lie, but he _had_ been here for an hour and boots were a very important subject. “Is everything alright hon?” 

“Yeah just if you see him can you tell him we’re all looking for him?” 

“Will do hon.” she smiled then, and Harry hid back behind the curtain just in case Niall took one last look around the room. “Be back in an hour for your fitting please babe!” 

“Yes ma’am.” Harry didn’t need to see Niall to know he was giving her a cheeky wink and a salute. 

“What are you up to Harry Styles?” Caroline asked as the door closed, her hands on her hips as she rounded on him. “Why are you avoiding the other boys?” 

“You know we’re men right? We’re not boys anymore ...” Harry pouted, finally emerging from the safety of the curtained booth as he buttoned his jeans. “These fit okay? They feel alright anyway.” 

“I’ll stop calling you boys when you stop causing trouble.” she shook her head, fingers resting in his belt loops as she tugged him forward. Harry blushed as he let out an unfortunate little _meep_. Her eyes met his firmly, and Harry resisted the urge to duck his head. He was a _Dom_, he was supposed to be a Dom, which meant he didn’t need to feel like a kid in trouble with Caroline right now. “I don’t know what’s going on with you darling, but I won’t be lying for you again. Now go get these off before you go getting them filthy and I have to send you out in your boxers.” 

“Yes ma’am…” he tried for a wink before he turned to change once more. His tone not quite the joking one Niall had used. Not when it seemed so much more natural to say it, when it didn’t seem like a joke. Not when it made him flush pleasantly at following such a small instruction. 

He needed to get a grip. He’d never struggled with any of this before. Only now it seemed like he’d had a taste of embracing that side of himself, and he didn’t know how to pretend as well anymore. Not with people he cared about anyway. Not when they looked at him with firm yet concerned eyes like Caroline did. Not when he remembered how upset the others had been to learn about his lies. It seemed wrong now somehow, to lie to people like that. It seemed like he was denying more than just himself. 

\---------------

“The boys are looking for you.” was the only thing Lou said when he arrived in her designated room. 

She was busy setting up, brushes lining the table along with a truly staggering amount of product considering there were only five of them she was responsible for. He wasn’t sure how much hairspray they went through on tour, but he was guessing they owed a debt to the environment. He wasn’t sure he was ready to take on all of the blame for Global warming, but if Lou’s table was any indication — they played a significant role. 

“I know,” he answered with a shrug, flopping into the chair as he spun around on it mindlessly. 

He didn’t need to get his hair done yet, they hadn’t even had sound check. He’d been wandering around the venue for hours already and he was rapidly running out of people to see and places to hide. Everywhere he went, the boys seemed to follow closely behind. They kept missing one another and Harry was more than okay with that. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to face them when it came time to perform — but he’d figure that out eventually. 

“Have you had a fall out?” Lou asked as he turned towards him, her eyebrows raised knowingly. “You know that Niall will replace whatever he ate….” 

Harry pouted as he raised his hands in exasperation at the memory of their last fight, in which he’d refused to speak to Niall for a full two hours. 

“...Lou that was _one time_ and it was _organic_. He practically inhaled it, didn’t even appreciate it.” 

“I see that memory from six months ago is apparently still too raw.” she rolled her eyes and Harry seriously considered hiding her favourite brush. “Did they use your candles to try and make smores again?” 

“No.” he mumbled, heel of his boot kicking at the floor. He wasn’t an _idiot _— he no longer brought his candles out in the dressing room. Nobody had any respect for nice things. 

He was met with silence, an expectant kind of silence which meant Lou was waiting for an explanation Harry didn’t want to give. Well he wasn’t going to give in to the other Sub. It didn’t matter if she was one of his closest friends, more like a big sister really. It didn’t matter that she had more patience than anyone else he knew — because he was strong and capable of keeping secrets. 

“If I tell you, you can’t react.” he mumbled eventually when the silence became too much. 

...maybe he wasn’t as strong as he thought.

“Harry love, you told me in great detail when you had a sex dream about Simon Cowell.” Lou rolled her eyes, although her expression remained kind as she perched on the edge of the table. “You’re not likely to shock me.” 

He wasn’t sure that was entirely true. He was pretty sure despite his closeness to the other Sub she would be pretty shocked to hear about what had happened in the last day or so. But his guilt over the lies to Caroline was still sitting there stewing and the idea of actively lying to Lou when she was asking him straight out seemed completely abhorrent. 

She wasn’t wrong, he did tell her everything. Hours spent with her trying out different hairstyles had built a friendship, and the time between tours that they cultivated it themselves had only intensified it. Harry loved her and she loved him — he loved her family like they were his own and he didn’t know how to have a problem he couldn’t talk to her about. 

“Louis um — “ he started, his cheeks burning as he stared at a dirt spot on the wall. “He well — _hespankedme_.” 

Lou to her credit, simply raised her eyebrows. 

“....are you two having incredibly kinky sex now?” she smirked, tugging her phone out of her pocket. “I can’t wait to tell Cazza that she lost the pool.” 

Harry frowned, completely lost for a second until he realised what she was implying. Then he felt his cheeks burn as he caught on. Harry wasn’t sure it was embarrassment over the implication itself, or the idea that he’d probably actively murder someone for the chance for that to be the reality. That Louis had spanked him for some kinky sex, he’d honestly just take sex in general frankly. 

Maybe he wouldn’t _actively_ murder. Maybe a passive murder. Or just like….a _pretend_ murder. Just pretend enough that it got him the sex but then he could pop up all — _surprise_, no real murder here, thanks for the orgasms. 

Or something like that. He’d had a lot of time to plot ways in which Louis might have sex with him. 

“No — no like — _for real_….” he mumbled, cheeks still burning something fierce before he glanced up at her, outraged as he properly took in the rest of what she’d said. “Wait, why are you betting on us shagging?” 

“Stupid questions don’t get answers.” she waved a hand dismissively and Harry barely held back the _hey_ that threatened. “Why would he do that?” 

“Because Nick gave them permission — and I did too I guess — well I don’t guess — I did.” he shrugged, glancing up once more to meet her eyes as he bit his lip. 

He wasn’t sure what her reaction was going to be. If she’d be hurt, or shocked or maybe not shocked at all. Sometimes she seemed to know him better than he knew himself, but from what everyone else’s reaction had been — he didn’t think she had known, everyone seemed to be horrified that he’d ignored his health. There was no way Lou had known and would have just let him carry on doing that. 

_He_ wouldn’t have if it was the other way round and she’d been pretending. But then again, he was pretty much a big hypocrite. 

“I’m trying really hard not to react here….” she spoke slowly, as if trying to control her reaction. Harry couldn’t tell a thing from her carefully blank expression. “I’m going to need some more details Love.” 

He bit his lip, glanced once more at her face before he spoke. He just _talked_, he just kept on fucking talking like he hadn’t been able to do for years. Like he’d wanted to. He told her about how close he’d been with Louis, told her how Modest had asked him to keep his classification secret. He told her how it hadn’t been long after Zayn’s classification had been made public knowledge and shit was hitting every fan there was. 

He told her what he hadn’t really told anyone else. How they’d thought maybe the band wouldn’t survive another sub. That teenage girls wanted Doms to lust over. He told her that he didn’t think that was true anymore, that he knew representation was important but he hadn’t wanted to let anyone down. He hadn’t wanted to be the reason everything fell apart. He just kept _talking_, letting the words spill out of him. 

He kept talking as he explained that it would have been too hard to pretend publicly and tell everyone else. That what he’d wanted was everything or nothing at all. But also for someone to kind of stop him. He talked about it being confusing, that he still didn’t know what he’d really been doing or what he wanted or how to be this now and he told her what had happened with the boys finding out. 

He didn’t stop until he’d told her all of it. Until his mouth felt a little dry and his hands ached from gesturing wildly. He didn’t stop until he’d gotten to where he was now, sat in Lou’s room with a sore arse and absolutely no idea what he was doing. 

“Harry…” she murmured when he finally drifted into silence, her voice thick with tears as she laid a hand on his knee. “Harry — I — “ 

“Don’t — you said you wouldn’t react.” he shook his head, his own eyes wide as he stared at her pleadingly. “Please Lou…” 

He bit his lip, tears stinging his eyes because he wasn’t sure he had the capacity to take whatever it was she wanted to say to him. He had to be able to get through the day, he had to get through sound check and the show and figure out how to be the person he was supposed to be now. He didn’t know if he could do all that if she scolded him, or comforted him, or anything else. He didn’t even know what he was trying to _do_. Only that his arse hurt and he was confused and every instinct he had was telling him to just keep avoiding. 

“Fine. But come here, you silly boy.” she murmured eventually, holding out her arms and Harry didn’t hesitate before he was out of his chair and letting her hug him. It didn’t matter that he was taller than her, or that she was a Sub. She smelled like Lou, she held him and stroked the back of his head and she gave hugs like his mum did. She was like _home_, like a mobile home that conveniently travelled everywhere they did and it calmed Harry’s pounding heart. 

“I love you, whatever your classification. I’ll always love you, unless you shave your head and then all bets are off.” she spoke eventually, pushing him back and holding him by the shoulders as she met his eyes. “Everyone loves you, no matter what. But I love you the most, remember that when you’re whining about hairspray.” 

He laughed then, tugging her back in for another hug just because he could, as he mumbled into the top of her head. 

“Love you too.” 

\-----------------------------

Avoiding during sound check was a little trickier than he’d envisioned. Not that Harry had envisioned it a lot, due to the fact he was avoiding and therefore that also meant avoiding his own thoughts. It was hard work, honestly — felt like something he should be getting paid for, it was practically a full time job. 

Harry had turned up on stage as late as he could possibly be without actually _being_ late, in order to avoid all the pesky talking that happened while they waited for last minute set up. He’d just casually slunk onto the stage, only tripped once on the way to his mic stand and studiously avoided looking at any of his bandmates. 

He could feel their gaze burning into the side of his head, but Harry resolutely refused to turn towards any of them. He simply looked out at the empty stadium instead and pretended the seats were already full with screaming fans. He had this. He was an _expert_ avoider. He was skilled in all of the avoidance tactics. He was practically MI5 or something. He was probably going to get headhunted as the next James Bond. 

“Where’ve you been?” Louis’ voice was nothing more than a hissed whisper, yet Harry thought he might as well have been yelling with how his entire body reacted violently. If his mic was broken from dropping it on the floor, it was honestly the Doms fault. “We’ve been looking for you all bloody day.” 

Harry continued to steadfastly ignore him and also ignore looking in his general direction as he bent to pick his mic up. He was only a human man, he was just a lowly human and how was he supposed to resist Louis if he actively looked in his direction and acknowledged that Louis was a real life person? He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to just go on with his life honestly, after Louis had spanked him and comforted him and now wanted to like — give him rules and keep doing those things. 

He was _human_. 

“Can’t talk — y’know — focusing….” he mumbled, as he fixed his mic back onto the stand breathing a sigh of relief as their music started playing. 

“Curly, I swear to God — “ he was tempted to remove his earpiece just so he didn’t have to hear Louis’ voice in his ear even through the music. 

But he was a _professional_, so he instead simply spoke into his own mic as his eyes sought out the sound booth. 

“Tom this mic is a bit shit, can you turn it up?” he gestured to his own mic, before giving a thumbs up. “Cheers mate.” 

“You’re pushing it.” was all Louis said in response, until it was his turn to sing and test his levels and Harry was spared from having to just casually die on stage. 

They seemed to give up after that. They might do a sound check nearly every day, but none of them wanted to be caught out on stage out of tune or out of sync. They cared about what they did. As boring and repetitive as it could be to test levels and ear pieces and acoustics — if it meant they put on a great show, they’d do their best to make sure everything was right. 

It was only when Paul gave them a thumbs up from below the stage and their support act trundled on to do their own sound check that Harry realised he had to make a quick escape. They had just a few hours before the show, but a few hours was a lot of hours when those hours needed to be spent avoiding four other people. Well, maybe not Zayn — Zayn was pretty chill. 

“Haz c’mon….we need to talk.” he jumped as Louis’ hand rested on his shoulder, eyes widening as he realised Liam and Niall were making their way over. 

_No_. There was no fucking way he was about to have any kind of talk hours before a show when he’d successfully managed to avoid it all day. Even if he partly wanted to curl up in Louis’ lap and give him whatever he wanted. Even if just Louis’ hand on his shoulder was settling some of the restless energy that buzzed underneath his skin. 

He was MI5. He was fucking _Bond_. He wasn’t going to cave. 

“Sorry, I’ve gotta — gotta pee.” he mumbled, refusing eye contact as he shrugged off Louis’ hand practically sprinted off the stage. “See you later!” 

“Harry!” Liam’s voice followed after him, but Harry knew they weren’t going to chase him or something. 

That’d be suspicious, especially in front of their support act and all the crew. Sometimes secrecy had its advantages. 

“Curly get your arse back here!” Harry almost stopped at the sternness to Louis’ tone, almost froze and trudged back over to Louis with a pout and a sorry. 

But he didn’t. He simply rounded the corner off the stage just as Niall’s voice was following. 

“Is he a fucking ninja or something? What the fuck?” 

\----------------

Paul was going to be the hardest one to assist in his avoidance plan. Paul never seemed to agree with anything that Harry thought was a good idea. However, he was also the man with all the plans and considering he served as tour manager and also in charge of their security — Harry kind of needed his approval if he wanted to be a successful fugitive. 

He knew he could avoid the boys when they performed, they always put aside any petty fights once they were on stage — that wasn’t the problem. However, tonight they were supposed to sleep on the bus. They were travelling at stupid o’clock to get to Sheffield early enough for the boys to do breakfast radio. Which meant they’d get more hours of sleep on the bus than they would in a hotel. 

Only, Harry couldn’t avoid anyone on a tour bus and Paul was the one in charge of those kind of arrangements — or at least approving them. 

So he armed himself with his most charming smile, dimples out in force as he sidled up to Paul where the other man was blatantly trying to be first in line for dinner when the caterers put it out. 

“Can you get me a room tonight?” he asked softly, laying his head on Paul’s shoulder in case the other man doubted just how tired he was. “Don’t fancy sleeping on the bus.” 

“You’ll only get about four hours of kip kiddo.” Paul ruffled his hair, glancing down at him with concern. “And there’s a full day tomorrow, dunno if there’ll be time for a nap.” 

“Yeah, I know. It’s fine.” he shrugged, pulling away to run a hand through his hair. 

“Do I need to check that with the lads?” Paul was eyeing him suspiciously and Harry remembered belatedly he was supposed to have rules now. 

It only proved that Paul would have enforced something about sleep had Harry picked him, because Paul was fucking obsessed. 

“No — it’s not a — not a rule.” Harry mumbled, cheeks heating at even the thought of that. Because he hated the idea of the lads giving him rules and Paul fucking checking what they were — but he also kind of loved the security of it. 

It was all very embarrassing. 

“What’re you up to?” Paul narrowed his eyes, studying his face as though it held all the answers to the universe and Harry tried his very best not to fail under such intense scrutiny. 

He was Bond for fucks sake. He could handle an interrogation. 

“Nothing — nothing I just — “ Harry sighed, steeling himself for the embarrassment as he widened his eyes and pulled out the big guns. “I’m um — pretty sore you know? I just wanted to have a bath and sleep in a bed.” 

It was mortifying. But all good secret agents had to take calculated risks with their own sanity when attempting to manipulate. Paul would approve of the fact he’d been spanked — because he was a fucking sadist. But he was also a good Dom and he loved them like they loved him — he’d want Harry to be comfortable now he’d been punished. 

“Yeah ...yeah alright then kid.” Paul softened and Harry resisted the urge to punch the air as the other man ruffled his hair once more. “I’ll sort it, your usual name will be at the desk.” 

Harry fucking _Bond_. 

\---------------

The worst thing about avoiding, was that Harry was bored. He was bored and lonely and rapidly running out of places to go and people to annoy. Every time he thought he’d found somewhere, he’d hear one of the lads. He couldn’t go to Lou because it was around the time they all had slots for their hair and he couldn’t go to the dressing room because he knew there’d be someone in there playing Fifa. The buses were parked five thousand miles away and the fences surrounding them held a million and one fans that would very quickly give away Harry’s location. 

So he had instead, escaped through a fire exit to what looked like a loading bay and was sat moodily on a wall, swinging his legs back and forth as he ran through every reason why this wasn’t fair and _he_ was the one forced into hiding because the lads didn’t know how to be not bossy. 

“I don’t know how we ever thought you were a Dom you know….” Zayn’s voice was quiet as he slipped onto the wall beside him, lighting up a cig in one smooth motion. 

“Uh — thanks?” Harry spared a glance at him, resenting him a little for the quietly serene look on his face as he got his nicotine fix. “I dunno if that was an insult or not…” 

“Just interesting innit?” Zayn shrugged, “You push.” 

“Stop trying to be all wise and mysterious.” Harry nudged his shoulder so Zayn would be aware of his disapproval. “It’s weird.” 

“Not trying, I just am.” Zayn nudged him right back and Harry didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “You planning on avoiding them for the next 8 months or?” 

“Maybe.” Harry mumbled, kicking his heel against the wall. 

“Now who’s trying to be mysterious?” 

“Shut up.” he nudged Zayn’s shoulder again. “I’m having a _crisis_, you’re supposed to be nice to people in crisis.” 

“You’re not having a crisis, Louis spanked you and you’re embarrassed.” Harry decided right then and there to just die. “You’re testing them, it’s quite cute actually.” 

“What are you, a sub expert now?” he asked and if he was a little petulant that was entirely Zayn’s fault. 

“Nah, I reckon I’m a you expert though.” 

Stupid smug bastard. 

“You’ve literally known for like 24 hours or something.” he rolled his eyes, so Zayn would know _exactly_ what Harry thought about that statement. 

“Yeah but now it’s like I don’t know how I didn’t realise before... you know?” Zayn waved the hand holding his cig and Harry resisted the urge to cough obnoxiously. 

He didn’t want to sit here and listen to Zayn’s stupid assumptions. Yet he didn’t want to be anywhere else either. The fact was — Harry had watched when Zayn was classified, a whole year before Harry was. He’d watched the awful struggle as the public had found out. He’d watched as Zayn had completely lost it for a while and then he’d watched as somehow Zayn had come into himself. 

It had been fascinating at the time, before Harry had been jealous. When Harry had been waiting longingly for his own time to be classified, so he could finally be with Louis. He’d watched as Zayn and Liam had slowly found comfort in one another, watched as Zayn stopped snapping both in person and interviews. He’d been able to see first hand as Zayn embraced what he was and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t interest him. It did. He wanted to know how that worked, he wanted to know how to feel so at peace with it. 

“How did you and Liam — “ he started, blushing fiercely as he tried to find the words. “I mean — “ 

He cut off as Zayn looked at him, eyes studying him intently for a minute as though he was considering what type of answer to give. Zayn did that a lot. Studied people with a quiet intensity like he could see something nobody else could. Like sometimes he didn’t need you to say any words — he knew your intent from your face. 

“Went a bit mad when I got outed didn’t I? Liam was there, did that concerned hovering thing he does.” he shrugged, like it was all that simple and Harry tried really hard to push back his envy. “Then it just kinda — I dunno — bit different than it is with you. It was sexual before it was anything else. Y’know — few hand jobs backstage and all that.” 

Harry pulled a face at that. He really didn’t need to know the details of Liam and Zayn’s sex life. Even if he’d be pretty alright with giving Louis a hand job backstage. Or _anywhere_ really. Wherever Louis would like a hand job Harry was game. He’d done it many a time in his own imagination, he was practically a fucking expert by now. 

“Do you have rules?” he asked suddenly, because now Zayn was talking he was just so curious. He wanted to know how it worked. He wanted to know _everything_ and yet nothing at all. 

“Yeah. Some.” Zayn shrugged, taking another drag of his cig. “Not a lot, I mean it’s mostly about communication and stuff. My temper. Shit like that.” 

Harry didn’t say anything, just continued to swing his legs back and forth, scuffing the heels of his boots against the wall. He didn’t know if he was jealous or something else entirely. He didn’t know why this whole thing made him feel so uncomfortable. Because he wanted it so badly, and yet he didn’t want things to change. It was hard to just accept it and he wasn’t sure how Zayn had. 

“There’s no template for what we need you know?” Zayn continued, his tone softer like he could somehow see Harry’s distress. “We’re not the same. What works for me and Liam doesn’t mean it’ll work for you.” 

“What if I don’t want any?” 

“Not really about that is it, do you _need _them?” Zayn met his eyes, tilting his head and Harry could only bite his lip in response. “Haz, you lied for a year, then when you were found out you took a whole pack of pills, disappeared and got drunk with the intention of shagging some random Dom — it’s not really rocket Science what you need.” 

“I still wanna be me…” he murmured quietly, “Still want us to be us, y’know?” 

“You needed the things you need a year ago...you’re still the same person.” Zayn smiled softly, throwing his cig on the ground. “Now there’s just other people than you who know you need them.” 

Harry bit his lip, lapsing into silence as he attempted to process what Zayn was saying. It made sense, and Harry wanted Zayn to be right. He wanted it to mean nothing was properly changing and if they were — it was only going to make things better. But it was hard for him sometimes, it was hard to force himself out of his own stubbornness. When there was something inside him that wanted to be _dragged_ out of it instead. 

He opened his mouth to explain that, to ask Zayn about it when the door behind them opened suddenly. 

“Zayn you out here? Has Haz been — “ Liam’s voice broke off, presumably because he’d seen them and Harry felt his heart actually stop. 

“Oh fuck.” he mumbled, jumping down of the wall with every intention of making a run for it across the Loading Bay thing and towards the other door. 

“Harry Edward Styles!” Liam’s voice had him stopping immediately in his tracks. “You take one more step and I swear you’ll be over my knee before you even make it to the door.” 

“_Liam_….” he whined, cheeks red as he turned to face the other boy. 

“Don’t_ Liam_ me.” Liam folded his arms across his chest and pointed to the spot in front of him. “_Here_. Right now.” 

There wasn’t a single part of Harry that wanted to go and stand by Liam. But there was something in his tone that had Harry moving anyway. He had no doubt that Liam would follow through on his threat, Liam was always annoyingly consistent with all things and it was like his entire body was pulled towards the other man by some magnetic force. The idea of _not_ doing what Liam said right now and making a run for it made him want to vomit. He wanted to be good, he didn’t want Liam to say he was naughty again, or that he wasn’t a good boy. And honestly, those thoughts were the most disturbing thing. 

So he dragged his feet over to Liam, standing in front of him with his hands behind his back like a kid getting lectured off their favourite teacher. Only Liam didn’t lecture him, he simply wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a firm hug and Harry couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped or the fact his entire body melted into the comfort. 

“What’s wrong with you huh? We’ve not seen you all day, we’ve been worried.” Liam pulled back just enough to hold Harry by the shoulders and look into his eyes. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Yeah — I’m fine — no really this time, I am.” Harry mumbled, squirming a little in Liam’s hold because he wanted to be closer. He wanted the hug back. He wanted to bury himself in Liam’s chest and feel warm and snug. 

….it had been a really long and lonely day. 

“So why the disappearing act?” Liam asked and Harry could only shrug in response. 

He didn’t really know what answer to give, because he wasn’t entirely sure. He was avoiding them sure, he was avoiding the talk that had been promised and the finality of getting rules and things. But saying that out loud seemed like a pretty bad and embarrassing idea. 

“He’s avoiding rules.” Zayn piped up helpfully and Harry shot him his very best glare. 

Zayn didn’t even react a tiny bit. It was fucking insulting. 

“We’re going to talk after the show Harry.” Liam stated firmly, and Harry could only stare at him with wide, pleading eyes. “No don’t look at me like that, I don’t know what you’ve decided a talk is, in your head, but it’s really not the end of the world.” 

Harry could only squirm. He was so _restless_. He wanted to escape the scrutiny and yet he wanted to bury himself in Liam all at the same time. There were so many conflicting emotions and his body was practically begging for things that Harry didn’t really understand. 

He didn’t have to spend much longer trying to understand it though, because Liam was grabbing his hand and tugging him back inside and down the corridor, Zayn following behind at a sedate pace. 

“Come on, we’re going to the dressing room.” he informed Harry as they marched along the corridor and Harry couldn’t escape the minor panic that came with that. 

“What — _why_?” 

“Because you’ve gotten yourself all worked up and we’re performing in two hours.” Liam stated firmly as he half dragged Harry along. “You’ve been hiding from us all day, so now you can stay where I can see you till I know you’re okay.” 

“...is this what you deal with every day?” he looked back at Zayn, stumbling just a little as he did.

“Depends if he’s awake or not.” Zayn shrugged, shooting him an amused wink and Harry could only roll his eyes at the both of them as he was tugged unceremoniously into their blessedly empty dressing room. 

“I’m going to see if Lou is done with Tommo.” Zayn announced, giving Liam a quick peck on the cheek as the Dom sat on the couch before leaving the room. 

Harry thought it was rude that Zayn had ignored his own pleading look for him to stay as he hovered awkwardly by the doorway. But then again, the other boy had always been pretty vain about his hair — and he didn’t like being last in line to be styled. 

“Come here.” Liam spoke suddenly from the couch, patting his lap and looking at Harry expectantly and Harry felt like his heart was in his throat. 

Fuck — was Liam going to _spank_ him? He couldn’t — his arse already hurt and he didn’t _want_ to get spanked. He’d been avoiding them all day and he was _still_ going to end up over someone’s lap? 

“What — no — I didn’t do anything — Li — _please_….” he whined, even though his feet were dragging him over to the couch anyway. Because not doing as he was told right now seemed like a really bad idea.

“You didn’t do anything is probably a bit of a stretch _Harry Avoider Styles_, but I’m not going to spank you.” Liam smiled at him, eyes amused as he patted his lap once more. “Come here, lie down and put your head in my lap.” 

_Oh_. He was getting a _cuddle_. Probably even some head pets and Harry was 100% not going to turn that down. He lay on the couch easily, curling up on his side with his head in Liam’s lap, because that was nice, that was familiar and he wriggled trying to get comfortable and closer and maybe bury himself in the warmth of Liam. 

“You’ve gotta calm down H, you’re getting yourself all worked up over things that aren’t even happening.” Liam murmured, voice soft as his fingers _finally _carded through Harry’s hair. “You need to learn to tell us when you’re feeling weird alright?” 

“M’Sorry….” he mumbled, eyes half closed as he let himself bask in the attention. It was nice, it was more than nice really. He’d felt so tense all day and all of a sudden he felt _boneless_, all the tension leaking out of his limbs that he hadn’t even realised was there. 

“That’s alright, you don’t need to be sorry. You haven’t broken any rules, we haven’t set any yet. We’re still learning okay? We’re learning what you need and what we can give and it’s something we’re going to figure out together.” 

Liam’s words were soothing and his fingers in his hair even more so. Like he just knew what Harry needed even before Harry knew it himself. He felt like he’d been touch starved all day. He’d had Louis holding him close all night and then — _nothing_. Granted that had been his own choice, but that hadn’t made it any easier. 

“You’re a good Dom Li...Zayn’s lucky.” he murmured eventually, voice slurred as it was always was when he was so relaxed. 

“Yeah? I reckon I’m pretty lucky there too.” Harry could hear the smile in his voice, “With you as well Haz, I meant it you know? It’s an honour to be someone’s guardian. Even more when they’re your best mate.” 

“I’m still your best mate?” he asked quietly, half scared of the answer even though Liam had just said it. 

“What? Of course you are Haz, why wouldn’t you be? You thinking of ditching us or something?” 

“No — no I just — because it’s different now.” he mumbled, fingers playing with a loose thread on Liam’s joggers. 

“Haz...adding something new doesn’t take away everything else you know? Like — Zayn becoming my boyfriend didn’t erase years of being best mates.” 

“Did you write that in one of your essays?” Harry mumbled, turning his head just enough to grin mischievously up at Liam. 

He felt lighter all of a sudden, like Liam’s words had switched a bulb on in his brain that wasn’t there before. Because that’s all he wanted, he still wanted to be Harry to them. He still wanted them to be the same but he wanted this too. Wanted them to care for him and look after him like this without resenting him. It was kind of starting to feel like that fear he’d had was completely unfounded. 

“Shut up, before I change my mind about spanking you.” Liam teased gently, swatting his thigh lightly and Harry laughed in mock outrage. 

“No take backs!” 

“_Oi_, I thought you were supposed to be helping him relax?” Niall’s voice was a surprise as the dressing room door closed behind him and Harry looked up with a dopey smile at the other Dom. “I didn’t spend five years searching through his shit for a candle for nothing.” 

“You’re not allowed near my candles Niall!” Harry protested, even as the Irish lad simply placed it on the coffee table and lit it with what looked suspiciously like Zayn’s lighter. “You lost candle privileges.” 

“Never signed anything. Not legally binding.” Niall shrugged, before lifting Harry’s legs and flopping onto the couch. “Budge over, you’re both couch hogs.” 

He placed Harry’s legs gently back over his own anyway, fingers trailing softly over his calves so Harry guessed he didn’t really mind the couch hogging. 

“Come on then Haz, close your eyes yeah?” Liam tugged his hair lightly to get his attention, “We’re _relaxing_, and if we don’t relax right I’m never gonna hear the end of it from Louis.” 

If the hair pulling hadn’t gotten his attention, _that_ certainly did. 

“Lou wants me to relax?” he couldn’t help the smile on his face or the quiet happiness in his voice, like even the _idea_ of Louis thinking of him distantly made him feel all squirmy. 

“Sent me five fucking texts about the bloody candle.” Niall mumbled, and Harry could practically hear his eyes rolling. 

“Oh...that’s nice.” he murmured, unable to keep the smile off his face. Because Louis knew how to help him relax, he knew his favourite candle and where it would be. He knew enough to text Niall even when he was busy getting his hair styled. 

“You and Tommo are idiots.” Niall announced and he simply squeezed Harry’s ankle as he went to protest. “Nope, no arguing that, s’just fact innit? Now hush, we’re relaxing. You’re ruining my zen — or whatever the fuck it’s called — with your pining face.” 

“What’s wrong with my face?” he pouted, because he was pretty sure he didn’t have a pining face and what did Niall mean by that anyway? 

But he was distracted from his outrage by Liam’s fingers in his hair again and his voice soft but firm above him. 

“Eyes. Close them.” 

“Sir, yes sir.” he mumbled jokingly, even as his eyes closed anyway, his body warm and tingly where they were touching him. He could smell the vanilla from his candle, and feel Niall’s hands stroking his calves gently and he was pretty sure he was going to melt into the couch. 

“Good boy, that’s it…” Liam murmured and Harry keened a tiny bit at the praise. “...close your eyes and just breathe for a bit.” 

\----------------

The show was _fantastic_. It always was, but this was the first time in a long time that Harry had performed without that heavy weight in his stomach. It was the first time he’d performed without looking at his boys and feeling terribly guilty for all the things he was keeping from them. He’d practically skipped to Lou for his hair, and the other woman had kindly said nothing about Niall hanging around and touching him periodically whilst she’d styled him. 

He’d finally seen Louis by the side of the stage and the other boy had simply shook his head at him before tugging him into the _best_ hug of Harry’s life. He hadn’t lectured him, or ruined what Harry was sure was a contact high or something. He’d hugged him and they’d gone on to perform what was the best show of his life. 

He’d almost forgotten about his whole day spent avoiding as they sat around in the dressing room freshly showered waiting for the go ahead to leave. It was only when Paul came in to announce they could go that he remembered. 

“Lads? Security is ready to get you to the buses.” he nodded his head as everyone started moving, before turning to Harry. “Kiddo, the car is ready for you, you got your stuff?” 

“Wait what?” Louis turned from where he was shouldering his bag, eyes wide with confusion. “Why does he need a car?” 

_Oh_. Harry had forgotten about that. He’d possibly been half insane all day, it was fine. 

“Why do I get the feeling I don’t know half the shit that’s going on?” Paul ran a hand over his face and Harry busied himself casually packing up his candle. “He asked me to get him a room.” 

“Of course he did.” Louis rolled his eyes, before walking over to Harry and helping him zip up his bag. “He doesn’t need that anymore, he’s coming to the bus with us.” 

“Well...it’s already booked now….” Harry ventured, as he lifted his bag onto his shoulder. “Don’t wanna waste it.” 

“Curly, you’re not living off a couple of hours sleep because you decided to be stubborn for a day.” Louis shook his head, taking Harry’s hand before he could protest. “Cancel it mate yeah? He’s with us tonight.” 

“Knew I shouldn’t of believed him.” Paul shot him a stern look, and Harry wisely decided to keep his hand in Louis’ should Paul get any ideas. “Right, off with the lot of you. Some of us wanna get to bed sometime in the next year.” 

Harry managed to shoot him an apologetic look as he shuffled out after Louis, and Paul simply smiled and shook his head so Harry decided that was definitely enough forgiveness. It helped that Louis was still holding his hand, that he held it as they walked with security to the buses. He held it like he was just _supposed_ to, like their hands just fit together that way and Harry didn’t even have a chance to feel anxious about anything because how _could _he when his skin felt warm and nice where Louis was touching him? 

He didn’t start feeling anxious until they were all sat on the couches on the bus, various snacks spread around them with Harry tucked against Louis’ side and Liam cleared his throat. 

“So, let’s get the rules talk out of the way yeah?” 

Harry groaned, they were having such a good night. Everything was _fine_. Everything was nice and chilled and Harry was having a great cuddle with Louis. He didn’t want to talk about this. 

“Do we have to?” he half whined, ignoring the rumble he felt in Louis’ chest as the other boy laughed. 

“Yes.” Liam’s voice was firm and Harry could only pout into Louis’ chest. 

“We don’t have that many, we’re not trying to control you or anything Haz.” Niall piped up from where he’d been trying to wrestle the last twix from Zayn. 

“I just don’t think I need — “ he started, only to be cut off as Louis pulled back a little. 

“Curly. Look at me.” 

“Oh no…” he mumbled as Louis gripped his chin, forcing his eyes up and Harry knew what came along with that. Some sort of choice, some sort of lecture or firm speech. 

He was ignoring the fact it made him feel all nice and safe that Louis was that predictable. 

“You need them. You need rules and we need to give you them. It’s a two way street this relationship yeah?” Louis tilted his head, smiling softly. “You’re not the only one who gets something out of this, this isn’t some giant sacrifice we’re making with no personal gain.” 

“Come on, there’s nothing that crazy.” Niall spoke through a mouthful of Twix, gesturing to Liam who was disturbingly holding a notepad. “Payno’s even written them down — he used a fancy pen and everything.” 

“...I knew leaving you all alone today would backfire.” Harry mumbled as he reluctantly sat up, sitting cross legged on the sofa as he prepared to hear the worst things ever. 

“Calm down Mr Dramatic.” Louis rolled his eyes, placing a hand on Harry’s knee. “We just want you to be safe and healthy you know?” 

“How about you all just tell him instead of this build up?” Zayn rolled his eyes, not looking up from scrolling through his phone as though he just knew Liam would be shooting him a stern look. 

So Zayn wasn’t the ‘perfect’ Sub either then? Ha, Harry saw how it was. He did appreciate the solidarity though. 

“Alright, we’ve written them down Haz, but we’ll talk about them yeah?” Liam started, clearing his throat as he glanced down at his notepad. “You need to keep your phone on you, unless we’re performing.” 

“Um ...okay.” Harry shrugged, because that wasn’t so bad. It was all a tiny bit mortifying, but Louis’ hand on his knee was helping and even just knowing one line, one rule, was making his stomach tingle pleasantly. 

“No doing anything that’s going to put your health or safety at risk.” Louis murmured next to him, and Harry didn’t comment on the fact he had that memorised without Liam’s notepad. 

“That’s — that could be anything….” he frowned, turning slightly towards Louis. Because sometimes Louis thought things were dangerous that Harry definitely did not. It was subjective, and Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

Maybe he was already trying to find loopholes. It was fine. James Bond would do that too. 

“Are you really trying to tell us that you don’t know when something is dangerous?” Louis raised his eyebrows knowingly and Harry felt a blush threatening. “I reckon you’re smart enough to know when you’re breaking that rule Haz, when something is putting your health — mental or physical — and your safety in danger.” 

He kept up the eye contact until Harry was almost squirming with shame, because he knew. Louis knew what Harry had been trying to do there and he evidently wasn’t giving in until Harry acknowledged it. 

“Yeah — yeah alright — I know.” he mumbled, finally breaking the eye contact as he glanced down at his own knees. 

“And if by chance you don’t know, but it makes you feel terrible and you keep doing it anyway?” Liam ventured, making a note in his pad. “That’s going to get you in trouble.” 

Harry could only nod, his face so hot he was certain he might actually begin to melt sometime soon. 

“No more pills.” Louis interrupted his mortification. “It comes under health and safety really, but I want to make that one really clear. Until we can trust you aren’t taking them, you don’t take any kind of medication without one of us being there with you.” 

“_Lou_.” he turned to him in shock, he couldn’t be serious. “Like, _everything_? What if I just have a headache?” 

“_Everything_.” Louis stated firmly. “That’s non-negotiable Curly. You could’ve killed yourself.” 

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. It seemed a bit extreme on the surface, but so was taking a whole pack of pills to stop a drop in a day. He knew he’d been forgiven for it, knew he’d been punished so he didn’t have to feel guilty, but he got why they didn’t really trust him all that much yet. _He_ didn’t really trust him either, Liam had basically _forced_ him to accept comfort today. He wasn’t entirely positive, that had he dropped today, he would have gone to one of them. It was all still new, he was getting used to it. 

So he simply nodded, biting his lip as Louis squeezed his knee in comfort. 

“No lying to us.The public and press don’t count in that.” Liam continued, holding a hand up as Harry went to immediately question it. “That includes lies of omission.” 

“We’re not talking like pranks or surprises or something Haz, it’s all about intent yeah?” Niall piped up, shooting him a smile. “No deliberately keeping something from us that might impact your health, or cause you don’t wanna be in trouble.” 

It seemed pretty fair, he didn’t like lying to them and he didn’t like it when people lied to him either. He’d felt terrible the whole year he’d lied to them and he definitely didn’t want to make that mistake again. He liked how he’d felt tonight on stage, he liked how happy and secure he felt, even if rules were making him die a little bit inside. 

“You need to tell us before you go somewhere.” Liam interrupted his thoughts and Harry immediately snapped his head up to argue that particular thing. “No, not like that. You don’t need to ask permission or anything, just let us know you’re going and when you’re back. We’ll all do that yeah? Just put it in the group chat so we know — it’s practical really.” 

“We’re all gonna do it?” Harry asked hesitantly as he glanced around at all of them, wary about accepting that one as though it was some kind of trick. 

“Yeah Curly, we’ll all do it.” Louis murmured kindly, “When we didn’t know where you were we — it was fucking awful okay? And we can’t always go look for each other, we’re all public figures and I fucking hated sitting in that hotel room waiting for you to get back.” 

Harry glanced at him, biting his lip in a poor imitation of an apology. Louis half looked like he wanted to cry at the memory and Harry hadn’t realised just how much he’d worried them. How much Louis _cared_. He knew he did obviously, despite everything he’d never doubted Louis cared about him. But there was always that doubt that he didn’t care about him the same way he had when Harry was younger. 

But looking at him now, with his pinched brow and downturned mouth Harry wasn’t sure how he could have ever doubted it. He felt _terrible_ about it, he never wanted to be the person who made Louis look like that. He didn’t want _anyone_ to make Louis look like that if he was honest. 

“Hey...it’s alright Hazza, we sorted that out yeah?” Louis murmured, his voice prompting Harry out of his guilt spiral and before he knew what was happening he was being tugged sideways onto Louis’ lap. “No more of that okay? You were forgiven.” 

Harry could only nod, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder because he couldn’t _help_ it. Louis had helped situate him on his lap like Harry fucking _belonged_ there. He had an arm wrapped around his waist, fingers on the warm skin of his hip where his t-shirt had ridden up and Harry half wanted to die just so he could stay there forever. 

He was interrupted from basking in his cuddle by Liam’s voice. 

“Last one is a bit more uh — “ Harry frowned, glancing up as he noticed Liam was blushing profusely and Zayn was trying desperately not to laugh from where he was pretending scroll through instagram. 

Harry wasn’t sure why Zayn had to be there, but he also kind of liked that he was. It made it seem really normal, just another chat with all of the band. Like they were discussing tactics for awkward interviews or how to escape Paul. He wasn’t sure though, what was so funny and why Liam was blushing. 

He also wasn’t sure why Louis’ grip was tightening against his hip, or why Niall was looking between both Louis and Liam and rolling his eyes.

“If you’re gonna go pulling random Doms for a fix, you bring ‘em back to the hotel or the bus. You don’t go to theirs.” Niall announced with a glare towards the other two Dom’s. 

“...what?” Harry froze, eyes wide as he felt his own cheeks heating up. He thought sex wasn’t going to be involved in this, and quite frankly this was a little bit mortifying. 

“We don’t know them, _you_ don’t know them. Like it or not, being a Sub alone with a Dom puts you in a vulnerable position. They’ve got some form of power over you and your emotional state yeah?” Niall continued, ignoring the obvious awkward tension and soldiering on. “You shouldn’t be going off alone with them. It’s just for your safety, we don’t want something to happen and you’re alone on their turf.” 

Harry could only manage a shallow nod and Louis wasn’t saying anything at all. He understood what they were saying and he kind of agreed. But there was something inherently wrong about talking about his mythical sex life whilst sat on Louis’ lap. Something he really didn’t like when Louis was the one he wished he was having any kind of sex life with. 

“Not to mention you’re _you_ — you’re not just any Sub H, you’re Harry Styles.” Liam seemed to have found his voice again and Harry could only nod. He very much wanted to get off this rule as soon as physically possible. Considering how tense Louis felt below him, Harry was guessing he did too. 

Or maybe that was wishful thinking. 

“You okay with all of those Haz?” Liam was talking again, smiling at him kindly. “That’s it, that’s all of them.” 

“Oh — “ Harry nodded, leaning back against Louis once more. “Yeah...yeah I’m good.” 

He _was_, which was the weirdest part. He felt loved and safe and secure. He knew where he stood and that in turn made him feel warm and nice. He loved them, his boys. He loved them so much and now it was done, he wasn’t so sure why he’d been so terrified of this in the first place. They hadn’t gone rule crazy, he didn’t feel like he was being controlled or humiliated — not that they would. He just felt loved. He felt safe. 

“We have some things to promise you as well Curly.” Louis murmured, fingers squeezing his hip once more. 

“We’re never going to humiliate you, in public or otherwise.” Liam added, and Harry watched as Niall nodded in agreement. “I mean — there’s no getting around you feeling a bit embarrassed with us if you get in trouble, but we’re not gonna start anything or lecture you in front of anyone you’re not comfortable that happening in front of alright?” 

Harry nodded, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face, because they knew him so well. They just knew the things he worried about and what to say to make him feel better. And they _cared_, they cared enough to make him promises in return, to have rules for themselves and put them on equal footing. 

Even if they wouldn’t get in the same kind of trouble as him for breaking theirs. 

“We won’t lie to you either.” Niall added, shrugging as though that was the most simple thing in the world. 

“We’re never going to force you to come out publicly. Or make you feel bad about lying about it — it’s your choice.” Louis tacked on and Harry honestly wanted to squirm happily at all these promises coming his way. 

Maybe he did squirm a tiny bit. Nobody needed to know. 

“And finally — we’ll never punish you without you understanding why it’s happening. Or letting you explain.” Liam finished quickly, thankfully not mentioning the fierce blush that stained Harry’s face at those words. 

He wasn’t planning to get punished ever again thank you very much. 

“You okay Hazza?” Louis spoke quietly, “Is that all good with you, or do you need something else?” 

“No that’s — that’s good. I’m good.” he nodded, resting his head back on Louis’ shoulder once more. Just in case he thought now they were done Harry had any plans on moving. 

“Sick. Anyone up for a round of Fifa before bed?” Niall interrupted, not even waiting for an answer before he was up and digging through the mess on the table for the controls. “Bagsy not getting stuck with Haz.” 

“_Heey_.” Harry drawled, frowning at that implication, he was a great player thank you very much. 

“Haz....last time you spent more time making backstories for every player than you did actually fucking playing.” Niall rolled his eyes, and Harry resisted the urge to throw a shoe at him. 

“It’s good for team bonding to understand each other!” he defended, sliding off Louis’ lap to grab a controller before Niall could ban him from the game. “I’m with Zayn, and all of you are going to be sorry when we win.” 

“...why did I get dragged into this?” was the last thing Harry heard from Zayn before the bus descended into the kind of chaos that could only be caused by a Fifa tournament.  



	4. Angry with cat and bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, it was a beast to edit and wasn't my best writing. But I can't look at it anymore, so it's going up whether I have repeated a few too many metaphors or not. 
> 
> I'm unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own! 
> 
> Thanks so much again for the lovely comments, I honestly can't tell you how much they help when I'm struggling with a chapter like I was this one. 
> 
> Please do let me know what you think and if the length is a bit much for you and I should do things in less words. I'm honestly open for feedback. I know I've barely even scratched the surface of the ship yet and people sometimes shy away from long fics, so I can try and change my plans if that's the case. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy! And please do let me know what you think, it's the best motivation in the world. Next chapter starts the ship process in more than just hints.

Harry had been living with rules for a week and so far he figured he’d been doing pretty well. His arse was safe at least and really, that’s all that mattered. Most of the time everything was pretty normal. If Harry thought too much about that he sent himself into a minor panic — but nothing much had changed at all. 

They’d always been pretty co-dependent as a band. A side effect of being thrust into fame and away from their parents so young. Harry had always felt as though he’d gained older brothers, who were sometimes mischievous and sometimes overly protective. 

Now it was just kind of official. That and they didn’t outright yell at him anymore like they sometimes did to each other. Harry knew _that_ at least was a Sub thing. There were specific ways to help Subs after all and yelling wasn’t one of them. They had a tendency to take on enough guilt for themselves, thoughts consumed with not being good enough, being disappointing — a veritable storm of ugly and upsetting thoughts that manifested into physical symptoms. 

Harry knew all this because Liam was making him research. Liam had almost made Harry write a fucking essay on it until Niall told him he was getting banned from google if he didn’t stop trying to set them homework. 

Essay writing aside it’d been pretty useful — learning why he felt certain ways. He’d never bothered before because knowing wasn’t going to help him with pretending to be a Dom. He’d needed to _avoid_ his biology then, not embrace or understand it. 

However, avoiding it was still something he had to do when in public, which made a day of promo particularly difficult. 

“We’ve got some questions from twitter now, our feed has been blowing up all morning.” 

Harry tried to smile at the interviewer, which he supposed he didn’t really need to do considering it was radio and nobody could see his lack of politeness. But he couldn’t bring himself to be anything less than polite, even if he was bored out of his mind. They were in Birmingham and had a whole day of promotion before their show the next night. Harry just wanted a nap.

It’s not as though he hated being interviewed, it was just so bloody boring sometimes. It was always the same questions, always the same rehearsed answers and anytime they dared to go off script, a lecture from management. Sometimes, Harry was sure they could send in robots to do the interviews for them, what with how predictable it all was. 

“Harry, twitter wants to know what you look for in a Sub?” 

He’d had that question multiple times. He’d lost count of the amount of times they’d been asked what they look for in a partner. He guessed it was because people wanted to know if they made the cut. He figured it was pretty insulting really — how did you define a person by stating a couple of traits? People were people, down to what kind of face they made when they yawned. Harry didn’t have preferences, how could he if he didn’t even know them? 

He also didn’t particularly look for anything in a _Sub_. Considering he was one and all. But that wasn’t really the point. 

“Um — well — just someone who’s nice y’know?” he mumbled into the mic, ignoring the predictable chortles of his bandmates. 

They weren’t laughing at him, not that the interviewer would know that. Laughing instead at the predictability of it. Harry always gave the same answer and he always deliberately didn’t specify classification or gender. It was a quiet kind of rebellion against management that they all enjoyed occasionally. 

“Care to elaborate?” the interviewer was probing, raising her eyebrows at him. But Harry had held up under worse interrogation than this. 

“Just — nice and funny — just a good person.” he shrugged, shooting her bashful smile number 27. The one Louis always told him would get him water in a draught. 

“Would you say you don’t have a preference in classification then?” the interviewer was continuing, her eyebrows raised in a challenge and Harry felt a slight panic in his chest. “Those don’t sound particularly like Sub traits.” 

“I don’t — I mean — I think that — “ he rambled, struggling to pull himself together to formulate a response. He wasn’t prepared for the interview to go this off script and usually he’d rally, he would have made a joke before. But it’d been a couple of weeks since everything had gone to shit and Harry wasn’t really used to covering things up anymore. 

In fact, he wasn’t actively _allowed _to outside of circumstances like this. Rules were a whole fucking thing. 

“I reckon nice, funny and a Sub aren’t mutually exclusive.” Louis was interrupting, the challenge in his voice clear even if he managed to make it sound mischievous and Harry could only slump back in his seat in relief. 

“Yeah what about Zayn here, you trying to say he’s not nice or funny?” Niall piped up, grinning even if his eyes were hard and determined in a way that Harry had started to learn shouldn’t be messed with. 

He’d found that out when he’d thought it would be a fine idea to argue with the Dom about Niall watching him take a fucking ibuprofen of all things. He’d refused to take it then on principle that he didn’t need to be babysat to get rid of a headache. Only, he’d ended up with five stinging swats to his arse and swallowing down the ibuprofen anyway. 

Harry hadn’t won against that look and this poor interviewer didn’t stand a chance either. 

“No of course not — so um next question is for Liam…” 

\-----------

“Harry there’s been some rumours about you and a certain Victoria Secret model, have you finally decided to settle down?” 

Harry blinked as he was addressed, the mid morning interview had so far been much of the same. They’d been asked about how the tour was going, how they were finding time to record and Harry had mostly had to give a few standard answers and attempt not to fall off the spinny stool when fixing the headphones. He hadn’t been expecting to be singled out like that, although he was generally the favourite when it came to sordid affairs. 

“Well...there’s always rumours.” he shrugged, glancing down at the desk as he spoke. “Can’t always believe everything you read y’know?” 

He felt sick all of a sudden, and he didn’t understand that. He was _used_ to this, he was used to the invasive questions and the assumptions about him. He knew what image he’d been given and the one management only encouraged. It helped with any suspicion over classification if Harry was simply a horny Dom not looking to settle down. Even better if some lucky, glamorous Sub had managed to pin him down. 

It made people want to be that person. It made them want to be the special one who _changed_ him, the one he stopped his womanising ways for. Harry sometimes wished they knew who he was and what he really wanted, that him not picking them didn’t mean they were lacking. He wished they knew that he wanted the same things they did — wanted to be special, wanted to be enough. 

“Twitter seems to think you’ve found yourself a Sub.” the interviewer continued, the Dom seeming completely unfazed by the four glares of his bandmates directed his way. “Is the famous Harry Styles ready to settle down?” 

“One time twitter decided Harry was part cat.” Zayn spoke into his mic before Harry even had chance to answer and Harry let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Oh yeah and remember when Paynos toes were trending?” Louis added, and Harry wished for a second there weren’t three other people between them. 

“That was sick. Twitter is wild.” Niall grinned, before going off on some tangent about hashtags that Harry could barely pay attention to. 

It was only after a minute that he noticed his hands were shaking in his lap. 

\-----------------------------

Harry wished he’d paid attention to the agenda. He wished he’d done more than just let himself be shuffled from car to building after building. He wished he’d realised that this interview was going to be one of _those_. One of those faux serious interviews where they asked the _deep_ questions. He wished it wasn’t for some podcast that dug deep into classifications and individual experiences. 

If he’d known he would’ve faked sick. 

“Zayn, as the only Sub in the band, would you say your experience differs from the other boys?” the podcast host was asking, a genuine look of curiosity on his face and Harry wished he didn’t feel so resentful. 

He wished he could enjoy the fact that these types of things existed. That there were Subs out there that got to listen to celebrities on things like this and know they aren’t lesser than. He wished he could add his own answers into the mix. Wished he didn’t feel physically sick at the irrational anger he felt towards Zayn. 

Because he _wasn’t_ the only Sub in the band. He wasn’t and if Zayn hadn’t reacted so fucking badly, Harry wouldn’t have to pretend. But that was unfair, it was so so unfair and not even really all that true. But he’d been in a weird mood all morning since the first interview and he just couldn’t fucking shake it. 

“In what way?” Zayn asked, leaning back in his chair as he thought about the answer. 

“In every way, do you find that your relationships with the other boys is different?” the host persisted kindly, “Do you struggle with the fame more so than the others?” 

“Nah, lack of privacy is a thing whether you’re a Sub or a Dom yeah?” Zayn glanced around at them, and Harry found himself nodding along as he was supposed to. “I mean, I reckon we’re at the point now that different needs doesn’t equal different status yeah? I might need to kneel cause I got overwhelmed, but Liam might need me to deal cause _he did_. It’s a partnership. Two way street kinda thing.” 

Harry wished he was anywhere but here. He wished he’d never gotten out of bed. He wished he didn’t feel so angry and resentful. He honestly wanted to shove his headphones off and storm out of the booth. He wanted to throw things and maybe stomp his feet until someone fucking noticed how unfair this was. 

It wasn’t exactly rational. But Harry didn’t want to be rational either. It felt like he was invisible, the only Harry that was being acknowledged was the fake one. Was Harry the Dom, the womaniser. Harry who had nothing insightful to add about being a good Dom because he had no fucking clue. They’d been shoved back and forth all day and the Harry he _wanted_ to be, the Harry who was maybe a little coddled by his bandmates hadn’t gotten any time in the sun. 

“Right and how does your relationship with Liam affect the band dynamics? Was it awkward at first?” the conversation was moving on to something more familiar, but Harry still hated it on principle. 

He hated fucking everything right now. 

“We’re all pretty close, I don’t reckon they even noticed to be honest.” 

\------------------------

It felt like they’d been doing promo for fifty years instead of half a day as they piled back onto the tour bus for a lunch break. Harry wanted nothing more than to go and hide in the bathroom and maybe cry or scream or something. He hadn’t said much as they were driven back to where the buses were parked, had stewed silently in the car and tried to not be pissed off that he hadn’t got a window seat. 

Because that was unfair too. He wanted to rest his flushed face against the window and maybe pretend he wasn’t there. Which was a really stupid thing to be pissed off about, but it was better than thinking about why he was _actually_ in a mood. 

He trailed in after the rest of the boys, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Niall whooped with joy at the Nandos bag sitting on the table. 

“Fucking _finally_ — I’m starving.” Niall didn’t waste any time digging into the bag, pulling out various food items and laying them on the table. 

“You’re always starving.” Louis rolled his eyes, kicking off his shoes as he pulled out a chair and sat. 

“Fuck off Tommo, I heard your stomach in that last interview.” Niall was sassy when he was hungry and usually Harry found endless amusement in that. But right now, he just kind of wanted the whole world to disappear. 

“You’ve got an hour Lads and then you’ve got three stations to hit in time for Drive Time.” Harry did his best to ignore Paul as he pulled out a chair next to Louis, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at the foot items littering the table. 

He didn’t want to hear about all the other interviews they had to do. He didn’t want to do anything but sit and possibly sulk. He could feel the tell tale sign of a headache behind his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if it was suppressed rage or the tears he refused to let fall making their presence known. 

“Ah shit, who got the Nandos? They forgot my cheese.” Zayn frowned from his perch on Liam’s lap, picking apart his Pita. 

“Mine’s got pineapple, it’s obviously Haz’s.” Liam added, making a move to pass it over and Harry frowned as he saw the sticker on the wrapper. 

“It’s not mine, that’s medium spice….” he mumbled, voice hoarser than he wanted it to be. He wanted to cry. He wanted to sob because his Nandos order was wrong, and he had no idea what was even wrong with him right now. 

“Oh, they’re all medium.” Liam mumbled, glancing at the food with a worried frown. 

“Fucking fantastic.” Harry snapped, shocked at the venom in his own voice. 

They’d obviously sent some new assistant to get their order and they’d completely fucked it up. It was stupid. Stupid to be mad about it. Stupid to want to cry that nobody had remembered that he didn’t like the spice. It was stupid to feel offended that his fucking _Nandos_ order had been forgotten and yet he did. It felt personal somehow, felt like he wasn’t a real person. Like he had all day, every time someone asked him a question as though they knew who he was. 

“It’s just food Haz, just eat it yeah?” Louis piped up, tilting his head in concern as he glanced at him and Harry realised for the first time that everyone was staring at him. It took everything in him not to point out that _now_ they were fucking noticing him. Even if that accusation was wildly unfair. “We’re not gonna be getting anything else any time soon.” 

“I’m fine.” he mumbled, pushing away a medium Pita just to fucking spite them and the stupid wrong food. 

“Here.” Nial’s voice broke through his rage, as a wrap was pressed into his hands. “There was lemon and herb one at the bottom of the bag.” 

“Great. Thanks.” he frowned down at the packaging, the sticker indicating the level of spice taunting him. Because now he didn’t even have a right to be annoyed about the Nandos and that was only serving to piss him off even more. 

It didn’t help that everyone was awkwardly picking at their own food, as though worried he was going to fling his wrap in their direction. He lifted his eyes enough to see Liam and Zayn communicating with eyebrows only, but that only made his heart hurt even more with something akin to jealousy. He didn’t need to look at Louis to know what he was doing, he could feel the other boys gaze burning into the side of his face. Like he was trying to see into his brain or something. 

He’d noticed that recently. Louis did this thing where he’d just _look_ at him, usually followed up by a stern word or a cuddle. Usually followed by whatever Harry hadn’t known he’d needed. It was really fucking disconcerting. But usually they had more time, usually they weren’t trying to shovel food in and then leave for more fucking hell. He knew realistically he was being unfair, that he was pushing and getting himself riled up when nobody noticed — when they didn’t have any time or space to do a thing about it. 

But knowing that somewhere in his rational mind didn’t help the part of him that was restless and on edge. The rational part of him wasn’t winning this war his mind had waged on itself. 

“Cheer up Lads, just three more and then we’ve got a free night.” Niall piped up through a mouthful of chicken. “Anyone fancy a bit of a kick about later?” 

“No reason we can’t have one now, eat up and then we’ll go yeah?” Liam smiled around at them all, obviously desperate to defuse the tension and it made Harry want to vomit with guilt that he’d caused it. 

Not enough to snap him out of it though. He was trying, he was. But instead of doing something like saying he felt weird, or apologising for his mood. He simply let their conversation wash over him as he stared at his untouched food on the table. He just sat there as they tried to eat their food as quick as possible so they’d have time for a twenty minute kick about in the car park. 

“Harry, you need to eat.” he was broken out of his thoughts by Liam’s voice and he looked up to see all of them staring at him with concern. 

It made him _furious_. It made him furious that the concern settled something in his stomach, settled a little of the restlessness because he didn’t _want_ it to settle. He wanted to be mad and yet he didn’t and he couldn’t get a handle on _any_ of it. 

“I’m _fine_.” he snapped, rolling his eyes for good measure. “Are we going or are we going to sit around and talk about my digestive habits all day?” 

“Curly. We’ve not eaten anything since breakfast.” Louis shot him a look, one that Harry was smart enough to know was some kind of warning. “You made enough of a fuss about the bloody medium spiced ones — so you can sit and eat your chicken.” 

He said nothing. Didn’t trust himself to speak as he glared down at the wrap as though it had somehow personally offended him. Which it had. It was a legitimate glare. 

“Are you tired?” Liam murmured softly, his voice laced with concern and Harry wanted to throw the fucking wrap at his head. He didn’t want their concern. He wasn’t honestly sure he deserved it. “Eat that and then you can go lie down in your bunk till we need to leave.” 

“Are you actually trying to send me for a nap right now Liam?’ 

“Curly. Look at me.” Louis’ voice broke through the ever present anger, and Harry had no choice but to meet blue determined eyes with his own mutinous green. “You’re going to eat your wrap and go and lie down without all this attitude. Or you can carry on and do both with a sore arse.” 

He wanted to refuse. He wanted to tell them that they didn’t get to spend all day pretending he was a Dom and then force him to do things like eat and nap. But then that didn’t make any fucking _sense_ because they were simply going along with _his_ lies. Well management’s lies but it equated to the same thing. Yet he was angry with them anyway, angry and resentful and jealous of the easy way Zayn spoke about being a Sub now. 

He remembered someone saying once, that it was easier to be angry with people you loved and trusted — because you weren’t afraid they’d leave you because of it. And that thought was kind of nice, even if he was in the midst of Hurricane Harry. 

“Fine.” he muttered, when Louis’ stern face never wavered, taking a mutinous bite of his wrap. “_Fine_.” 

Nobody spoke then, they made no effort to dispel the tension as Harry chewed sullenly on his chicken and he knew he didn’t really deserve for them to make it less awkward for him. But he still wanted them to anyway, having them just wait for him to eat so he could go off for a nap felt a bit too close to being in trouble and Harry didn’t like that at all. 

“Bed. Go.” was the only thing Louis said the second he’d swallowed the last bite of chicken, simply pointing towards the bunks. 

“I heard you the first time.” he mumbled as he shoved his chair back, and he made sure to open the curtains to his bunk as aggressively as possible. 

He honestly wasn’t sure what he was even doing, never mind saying. Only that it satisfied him more than sitting around feeling out of place and miserable did. So he lay in the bunk, staring up at the ceiling and stewing with resentment. 

“What’s with him today?” Niall’s voice drifted through the curtains as they all started to shuffle off for a quick game of footie. 

“I dunno, but he better pack it in.” Louis responded before the door shut behind them. 

Harry wasn’t going to nap. They could all fuck off quite frankly. 

\----------------------

“You feeling better?” Louis murmured to him as they started to take their place for the recorded interview. 

It was some local breakfast show that was due to be aired the next day, drumming up publicity for an already sold out show. Fucking pointless but here they were anyway, doing their usual thing of trying to squeeze onto a couch with two stools behind. 

Harry didn’t say anything, didn’t trust himself to speak. He’d spent half an hour stewing in his bunk and a silent twenty minutes in the car ignoring everyone’s attempt at distracting him. He wanted to snap out of it, he wanted to be fine. But his stomach was churning at the thought of even _more_ lies, and he was dreading the resentment he knew was going to surface when Zayn and Liam were able to be open and frank about their relationship. 

He didn’t understand, he didn’t know why _he_ had to be the one who was different. The one who had to change himself just to be someone people wanted. It hurt more than it usually did now he was getting used to being himself everywhere else. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” Louis sighed, taking his wrist as he tugged him down onto the couch. .“Come on, you’re sitting next to me.” 

“We’re not allowed.” Harry mumbled, biting his lip as he sat down next to him, nodding towards the cameras. “They’re filming.” 

They hadn’t been allowed to sit together in interviews ever since the Larry rumours started in full force. Harry had learned a while ago not to question it anymore. He went where he was directed, _when_ he was directed and he got through it. Even if feeling Louis’ comforting presence always helped to calm him down, even if he would smile more when Louis slung an arm around his shoulders or squeezed his knee. He missed the days when interviews were fun and filled with flirting. 

He missed the flirting in general if he was honest. 

“Who makes the rules here?” Louis murmured in response. 

“You.” 

“Exactly, so you let me deal with Modest yeah?” his hand rested on Harry’s knee and he shot him a familiar mischievous Louis grin. “Sit and wipe that sulky look off your face before it gets stuck that way.” 

Harry felt he really couldn’t be blamed for following that particular direction. Even as everyone else settled in and the interview got underway. Even when Michael, their current handler from Modest was shooting them looks from where he was standing off to the side. Harry didn’t have to do anything, when Louis was simply raising his eyebrows at the man in a silent challenge. 

“So Harry, we’ve been hearing some rumours about you.” the interviewer focused on him halfway through and Harry sat up from where he’d been buried in the couch cushions. 

“Fun.” he mumbled sarcastically, and he felt Zayn flick his neck from behind but he didn’t care. He wasn’t in the mood for this, he didn’t want to hear stupid rumours about himself that he knew most people believed in. 

“We thought it’d be fun to read out a couple and you can tell us if they’re true or not.” the interviewer continued, and Harry only stared at him blankly. 

“Why don’t _we_ get to play a game?” Niall interrupted with a mock pout. 

“Is Hazza a one man band now?” Louis added and Harry couldn’t even bring himself to be grateful for the attempt at saving him. 

He didn’t really want to feel anything at all, or he was going to feel only anger. He was going to snap and he really wasn’t a person who did that. 

“Oh don’t worry, we have questions for all of you — it’s just Harry here seems to have the most interesting stories about him.” 

“It’s the curls, they hide all his secrets.” Louis reached out to ruffle his hair, and it took all of Harry’s strength not to lean into the touch and beg for a cuddle. 

“Well let’s see if we can get some of them out in the open shall we?” the interviewer continued gamely and Harry realised he genuinely didn’t even know the guys name. That was rude of him. He was never usually that rude. “You once spent the night delivering pizza to the homeless?” 

“Uh — I think — “ he started, face heating at that one and not because it was bad, but because it didn’t really feel like trying to do a nice thing when it was being used for publicity. He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t really win that one. If he denied it he was an arsehole, if he admitted it he was a _bragging_ arsehole. 

“I think Ed already outed him for that one yeah?” Louis muttered with a wave of his hand. “It’s true ...next one. We’re all waiting for our turn here.” 

“Okay, Okay.” the interviewer laughed, shaking his head at their antics and Harry marvelled that they only ever saw what they wanted to see. That they were having fun. _Enjoying_ this. They couldn’t be more wrong. “You once had a threesome with Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift.” 

“What?” Harry blinked, staring at the interviewer like he’d grown two heads. “No — that’s not — even if that _was_ true, that’s pretty disrespectful to talk about them like — “ 

“So it _is_ true, but you’re trying to be respectful?” the interviewer raised his eyebrows in a challenge and Harry wanted to throw a shoe at his face. 

It wasn’t true. Of _course_ it fucking wasn’t. He’d had an arrangement with Taylor sure, but one that definitely hadn’t involved any kind of sex and one that had been mutually agreed to end in public heartbreak on her end to help her promote her album and score Harry a playboy image. Acting as though they’d had a threesome wasn’t part of that deal, and whilst Harry might come out of it looking like a cool man whore — he was lucky enough to be a man. Taylor and Selena were not. It wasn’t fair to them, when he knew the names they’d get called. 

“No — I’m just saying that you shouldn’t be asking about — “ he started, glancing to Michael desperately as he waved his hand. “Can we stop? Can we just — was that on the list?” 

“Carry on, we can take that question out of the recording.” Michael answered calmly, and Harry wanted to scream. He was sure that any questions about his sex life weren’t allowed, he was uncomfortable talking about it when his real sex life consisted of one night stands with Doms who would sign an NDA. 

“It wasn’t stated explicitly on the list…” the interviewer shrugged casually, as though it wasn’t a big deal. As though Harry’s comfort levels and the reputation of two women was worth taking the risk for a juicy question. 

“No, but you’d think common decency would be.” he snapped, glaring at the interviewer and then at Michael for good measure. 

“Haz…” Niall murmured from the other side of him. 

But Harry was done. He was done with this fucking terrible day. He was done right now with lying and pretending whilst everyone sat around and got to be themselves. He was just done with shitty questions and shitty assumptions and he didn’t want to do it for another second. 

“No. No fuck this.” he stated, standing from the couch and walking towards the door before anyone could stop him. “Play your fucking games with someone else.” 

“_Harry_.” he heard Liam’s voice, but he didn’t turn, he didn’t make any attempt to go back to them or apologise. 

“No. I’m fucking done.” he said instead, taking great satisfaction as the door shut behind him. 

\------------------

He honestly wasn’t sure how he found his way back to the Green Room. Only that nobody stopped him and for that he was grateful. He knew it was a bit of a dick move, the other boys couldn’t exactly also walk out mid interview. But he didn’t want to be with them right now either. Except he did, he _really_ did and yet he didn’t at the same time and nothing was making sense. 

He’d never walked out of an interview before. None of them had. Louis had probably come the closest to losing his cool, but Harry had always done his best to remain polite even when they were asked questions they definitely weren’t supposed to. It usually meant those interviewers were blacklisted and they were rarely allowed to air them — but some organisations would still take the risk. 

Harry was used to it. They all were. Yet right now, as he grabbed his jacket and bag — he didn’t want to be used to it. He wanted to be mad. He wanted to be furious, because that way he didn’t have to pay attention to the guilt churning in his stomach or the restlessness he felt spreading through his limbs.

He turned as the door opened and Paul entered the Green Room and Harry knew immediately that the other man knew what had just happened. He didn’t look angry, he wasn’t their management after all — he was rarely concerned with their image and more about their safety. 

He did look concerned though, eyes soft as he surveyed Harry silently and Harry honestly wished he could just be pissed instead. He wished Paul would just yell at him, call him unprofessional or something. He wished he’d justify all the shitty things Harry was currently thinking about himself. He couldn’t even bring himself to make a joke, to kill the tension. It was like all the humour had been sucked out of him. He couldn’t remember how to be himself right now, when he felt as if his entire being was just a ball of rage and guilt. 

“I want a car.” Harry bit out, shouldering his bag as he stared somewhere in the vicinity of Paul’s face — because meeting his eyes wasn’t something Harry was going to brave. 

“Mate, you’ve gotta calm down.” Paul took a step forward, holding his hands up in mock surrender when Harry immediately stepped back. 

“No Paul, just get me a fucking car.” he snapped, shocked honestly at his own voice. He sounded harsh, angry in a way he really never was. 

“I think you should wait until — “ Paul started and Harry could only shake his head, desperate suddenly that Paul didn’t tell him he had to wait for the boys. He needed out. He needed to leave this place. Just for a minute, just to take a fucking breath or something. 

“Paul, _please_….” 

There must have been something in his voice, because Paul studied him carefully for a second before nodding and pulling out his phone. 

“Alright...alright just wait here, I’ll get you out of here.” he typed something out on his phone before fixing Harry with a stern look. “You’re going to the hotel, no detours. I’ll get you out of here, but that’s where you’re going.” 

Harry could only nod, his throat dry all of a sudden, fingers tingling as he gripped the strap of his bag. He wasn’t trying to avoid the boys, he wasn’t running or avoiding them even though he suspected they were going to be angry. He just wanted out of this building, this _day_. He wanted to be done. 

Paul didn’t say anything more, simply left to go check on the car and make the necessary arrangements to get Harry out of the building without the others. Harry felt like he’d taken half the oxygen with him when he left, all of sudden alone in the room that felt stuffy and stifling. He stumbled back against the table, hands gripping the edge so hard his knuckles turned white as he attempted to just _breathe_ or something. 

He looked up only when the door opened a couple of seconds later, shocked when it wasn’t Paul who entered. Instead, it was Michael.. he wasn’t particularly memorable, around 6ft with his hair shaved so close to his head and Harry sometimes wondered if maybe he was just going bald. Harry didn’t hate him or anything, but he also really didn’t want to deal with him or what he thought of Harry’s stunt right now. 

“What the hell was _that_?” Michael snapped in lieu of greeting as he shut the door behind him. 

“Nothing.” he mumbled in reply, lifting his face to meet Michael’s eyes stubbornly. 

Because he wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t doing this right now. He wasn’t going to be meek and mild when they were supposed to stop that shit. They were supposed to screen the fucking questions and Harry had, had enough today. 

He was done. 

“Are you sick?” The Dom continued, raising his eyebrows. “Because that’s the only reason I can think of that you’d walk out of an interview.” 

“No.” 

“Then you need to get back in there and make an excuse about needing the bathroom.” Michael pointed to the door, and Harry could only raise his own eyebrows in disbelief. Like _hell_ he was going back there. He definitely wasn’t going to make some bullshit excuse whilst everyone looked at him and knew he’d been forced to do it. 

Dom or not, even if everything in Harry’s body was protesting at refusing. Harry wasn’t going to do it. 

“They’ll be done soon anyway.” he mumbled, despite his inner thoughts being steeped in stubbornness, it was hard to refuse outright when a Dom was being particularly authoritative. “I’m leaving.” 

“You do realise how this looks don’t you?” Michael ranted, and Harry noted the red blotch on his neck that he assumed meant he was stressed. It looked kind of like a tomato. But right now that thought didn’t even amuse him. “This isn’t the type of press we need when we want to add more tour dates — “ 

“I don’t care.” Harry snapped, fingers straining with how hard he was gripping the edge of the table. “I don’t fucking care.” 

“Well that’s nice, but you have four other band members who _do_ care. So perhaps you could consider making an effort for them?” 

That was the crux of it wasn’t it? Why Harry was positive the boys would be angry with him too. Because it _wasn’t_ just him. Anything he did, anything they did impacted the others. Why Harry had to be a Dom. Because he was more attractive that way. Because when people wanted him to fuck them — it sold albums, it sold tickets and it wasn’t just his livelihood on the line. They were a band, and everything Harry did impacted on the others. 

It was pressure Harry felt right in his chest. 

“It’s just one interview — you said you’d screen the questions — I don’t wanna answer that stuff anymore.” he mumbled, the anger he’d felt replaced instead by guilt, by an urge to submit to this man he barely knew. “I’m sorry — I just — I can’t — “ 

He couldn’t keep it up, he couldn’t stay strong and stubborn when Michael was hitting every trigger he had for his guilt. There was a reason Subs had Doms in the first place. There was a reason not every Dom was allowed to assert authority over a Sub. Because it was easy to do. It was _too_ easy. It was why Subs had a choice in who they chose to give that kind of power to. Because it was _hard_, it was so fucking hard to outright refuse something without the impending guilt settling in. 

“Harry, do you need some help?” Michael softened his tone, studying him in a way Harry didn’t want to be studied by him. Like he was figuring him out, analysing him when he wasn’t a Dom that Harry wanted right now.

“No I just — I need to go — “ 

He watched as Michael rummaged through his own messenger bag, watched as he pulled out a brand new pack of pills. Pills Harry knew intimately. Pills he’d always been assured would make it possible for him to carry on without a Dom. Pills he’d taken almost an entire pack of to stave off a drop. The pills that had started this whole fucking thing. 

“Here, we always keep some spare just in case — you should have said something.” Michael murmured in concern, but Harry knew that his concern came in two parts. Sure, he was a human being and a Dom and presumably not a complete dick — so he obviously didn’t want Harry to drop. But he also wanted them to be okay from a PR standpoint — and that meant Harry getting control over himself. 

“No that’s — I don’t — “ he stumbled over his words, as his wide eyes stared at the familiar pack of pills being held out to him. 

What he _wanted_ to say was that he wasn’t allowed them. But for some reason, he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing anyone else. He didn’t want Michael to be mad at him, even if sometimes he wasn’t sure what Michael thought his best interests _were_. 

“Come on, we’re working hard to keep this quiet for you — but you need to do your part as well.” Michael continued, taking a step closer as he pushed the pack towards Harry. 

“I don’t need — I’m fine.” he shook his head, even as his fingers released their death grip on the table. Because Michael was right. 

They were working hard for him. The line of NDA’s was a mile long when it came to Harry and his sex life. He’d had to scratch the itch somehow after all. There was only so long he could go without something physical, even if that came in sex form. He was causing them extra work and now he was refusing to take something that would lessen that burden. 

“You’ve been acting out all day. It’s alright, you’re bound to get some urges sometimes.” Michael soothed, smiling at him softly and if it was anyone else, Harry would find it reassuring. But he didn’t want him. He wanted the boys. He wanted Paul. He wanted his fucking mum or Gemma or Robin or anyone but their Management when he honestly wasn’t sure where their priorities were. “This will help till we can get you sorted out properly and into bed yeah?” 

Harry took a breath, biting his lip as he looked at the pack being held out for him. It would be so easy just to take it. It’d be easy to do what Michael wanted and maybe he’d feel better. Maybe the pills would help and then Michael wouldn’t be mad and there wouldn’t be some big drama with management. A lot of Subs took them, they weren’t hardcore drugs or anything. But most Subs hadn’t survived solely off them for a year. But there were also rules — _his_ rules — rules that had been lovingly given to him and right now he felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. 

There was no possible way to please everyone and Harry felt tears spring in his eyes against his will. Because it wasn’t _fair_. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know who he was supposed to be listening to, when everything was supposedly for his benefit. 

“Put those fucking things away.” Louis’ voice was a shock when Harry hadn’t even heard the door open. 

He sounded _furious_ as he rounded on Michael, his eyes flashing dangerously, fingers white where they were gripping a bottle of orange juice. “What the fuck are you doing? You think you can just come in here and try and shove pills down his throat?” 

“Louis, this was a private meeting. I understand you’re concerned but — “ Michael started, only to be interrupted as Louis simply shot the other Dom a look so stern Harry wasn’t sure how Michael was even still standing. 

“No. No there’s no fucking _but_, unless you’re referring to _his_ which you’ll be half responsible for if he takes one of those things.” 

“_Lou_…” Harry whined, cheeks heating at that particular implication. He didn’t particularly want Louis’ current mood transferred to him, but the whine just slipped out of him. 

Louis however, simply turned to him then, shooting him a warning look as he raised his eyebrows. 

“You know _better_.” he stated simply, fingers closing over his wrist as he led him over to the couch and Harry could only follow blindly, trying for his own sanity to ignore the abject relief at Louis taking over. “Sit down. You need to drink this, you’ve barely had anything all day.” 

Harry’s knees bent automatically at the order as he sat on the couch, watching as Louis opened the bottle of orange juice and handed it to him. 

“All of it please.” 

Harry raised the bottle to his lips dutifully, Louis’ entire focus on him as he swallowed his first gulp of juice. He wasn’t sure if it was following the instruction or the sugar itself that had the slight buzzing in his skin settle a little — but either way he wasn’t feeling quite as emotional as he had not thirty seconds earlier. 

“What’s going on here?” Michael was looking between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed in apparent confusion and Harry couldn’t really blame him. He had after all, neglected to inform management of his change in circumstances. 

...he’d been distracted. 

Louis however, didn’t seem particularly concerned with Michael right now. He was continuing to study Harry intently, fingers threading through his hair as he pushed his fringe back from his face and glanced down at him. 

“You good? We’re going to have a chat in a couple of minutes about saying no to things that you know aren’t allowed and keeping things to yourself.” the Dom murmured, and Harry could only bite his lip in response. Louis must have sensed his mild panic, because he was continuing. “Right now you’re just going to sit there and drink that juice. That’s all you need to concentrate on right now Curly.” 

“But I — “ he started, as he swallowed down another mouthful of orange. 

“Drink your juice please Hazza.” was all Louis said, dipping to press a kiss against the top of Harry’s curls before he was turning to the side to face Michael. 

Harry wasn’t sure if he should be concerned, but he was supposed to be drinking his juice and he didn’t really have room to contemplate anything else but that. 

“Louis, what is — “ Michael started, and Harry could only watch with wide eyes as Louis rounded on the other Dom. 

“You don’t corner him like this again.” Louis snapped, eyes blazing with anger as he lifted a hand when Michael opened his mouth again. “No. Before you start, I’m well aware he’s capable of making good decisions. But not when he’s had a shit day and nobody has had time to help him.” 

“Lou — it’s fine — “ Harry tried, biting his lip because he didn’t want Lou to get in shit either. He didn’t want Louis to feel like he did. 

“It’s not fine — and less talking, more drinking. I want that bottle gone.” Harry brought the bottle to his lips so quickly, he was pretty sure he would have won Gold if it was an Olympic sport. “He’s vulnerable and the worst thing is you fucking _know_ that. You know you can corner him and pressure him and he’ll do whatever the fuck you say and if you _don’t_ know that, then you’ve got no business managing a band that has two Subs.” 

“Okay, let’s take a breath shall we?” Michael held his hands up, “As far as I was aware, nobody knew about Harry’s classification and I was trying to do what anyone would for a Sub who doesn’t have an immediate Dom around to provide adequate care.” 

“Those things aren’t adequate care and you’re a piece of shit.” 

“Tommo….” a familiar Irish accent interrupted and Harry lifted his head in shock as he saw the other boys pile into the room. “Let’s take a breath or summat yeah?” 

“No. I don’t give a fuck.” Louis simply waved a hand in Niall’s direction, eyes firmly on Michael. “We’re his guardians. It’s all legal, so next time there’s an issue with Harry you come to one of us. That’s how this is going to work.” 

“You’re his guardians?” Michael couldn’t seem to hide the shock in his voice and Harry wanted to sink into the sofa, but he wasn’t sure he could do that and also finish the juice. “Harry?” 

“Uh — yeah — the three of them.” he mumbled, biting his lip once more as he avoided looking at the other man. He probably should have informed them or something. He wasn’t really sure what the procedure was for that. 

“He’s drinking his juice right now. As you just heard me tell him to.” Louis actually _snapped his fingers_ in Michael’s direction, pulling the other Doms attention back to him. “This is the shit that needs to stop, you’re not gonna undermine us with him. We _love_ him, we know what he needs and he doesn’t need this kind of shitty pressure.” 

Harry could only sip from the bottle at that and pretend it didn’t make him feel kind of safe and squirmy. Sure, it wasn’t a declaration of love from Louis or anything — but it was still nice. Nice to know they loved him, nice that Louis was dealing with this. Nice to that it was being acknowledged that Harry had been facing pressure from all sides. 

He had a vague thought that he should possibly be ashamed of how relieved he was not to have to deal with it himself. But he’d been told to drink his juice and he wanted to do a good job with that right now. 

“Right. I have to make some calls.” Michael stated suddenly, pulling out his phone and Harry didn’t miss the eye roll that Louis responded with. “Expect a meeting regarding this when you’re back in London in two days.” 

“It’ll be a meeting with all of us then.” Liam piped up as he handed an apple to Zayn. “You’re not talking to him alone.” 

Harry resisted the urge to declare his undying love for all of them, as Zayn took what could only be described as a threatening bite of the apple in Michael’s direction and Niall wrapped an arm around Louis’ shoulder in a show of solidarity. 

“Boys, I’m not sure what exactly you think we’re doing here. It’s the bands interests we’re looking out for.” Michael shook his head and Harry spared a brief thought for the fact that it was kind of weird how it didn’t really feel like they were on the same side as their own management. “We need to make sure this is handled properly and how we’re going to move forward.” 

“Well I guess we need to make sure our definition of the bands interests match up then don’t we?” Louis stated casually, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cause last time I checked, Harry’s interests are part of that.” 

“I’m sure we can figure all of this out.” Michael continued, his tone taking on a formal, professional air. “You’ve had a long day, all of you should get some rest.” 

“You don’t offer him those again, are we clear?” Louis nodded towards Michael’s bag as the other man stuffed the pills back inside. “He’s not allowed to take them.” 

“_Lou_…” Harry whined once again, forever embarrassed whenever the new fact of having rules and stuff was brought up. 

“Haz, c’mere…” Liam murmured, taking a seat next to him on the couch as he wrapped a strong arm around his shoulders. Harry wished it didn’t fill him with instant warmth. “Calm down yeah? He’s just saying what’s true, you’re not allowed. That’s the only part you need to worry about here. It’s against the rules.” 

It should have been insulting. But it wasn’t. It was calming in a way Harry hadn’t expected it to be. Because he didn’t have to worry about pissing off their management, or trying to please them when what they wanted didn’t match up to what his bandmates wanted. Because there were rules and Harry wasn’t allowed to self medicate his classification anymore like it was a fucking illness he wanted rid of. He just wasn’t allowed, he didn’t really have to think much past that. He just had to follow the rules and there was something really safe about that when Harry felt so out of sorts. 

“We’ll get you a copy so we don’t have this kind of issue again.” Louis continued, “You won’t be putting him in a position again where he has to choose between following them or pleasing you lot.” 

“We’re not the enemy here Louis.” Michael shook his head and Harry thought he actually looked a little hurt. 

He wished he didn’t care so much about that, that it didn’t make him want to apologise and make their lives easier. But that was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. 

“Then prove it.” 

“I’ll see you at the show tomorrow.” Michael stated calmly and Harry swore he’d been about to step towards him, but then Zayn was standing between Harry and Michael and Harry couldn’t see anymore. “Feel better Harry.” 

Harry chose to simply focus on the fact he’d finished his juice as the door closed behind Michael. 

\-------------------------

The hotel corridor was blissfully empty as they all tumbled out of the lift. Harry sometimes felt ashamed of how many perks their fame brought, like buying out almost an entire floor of a hotel for them and their teams. But right now, he couldn’t be anything but thankful as Paul gathered them round to hand out room keys. 

The ride back had been pretty uneventful. Harry had been sandwiched between Louis and Niall, both boys seemingly competing with who could dispel the slight tension the most obnoxiously. Harry had simply sat there silently, clutching the empty juice bottle in his hand until Louis had smiled softly at him, called him a good boy and taken it from his hand. He hadn’t forgotten that Louis wanted to talk to him, but he was more than grateful that their priority had been to get back to the hotel. 

“What’s the room situation?” Louis asked as Paul pulled out the keycards, and Harry snapped his head up from where he’d been studying the carpet intently. 

It felt like forever since they’d actually been in a hotel. At least a day of promo had afforded them hotel luxuries and two days in the same city. Harry wanted to curl up in a big bed and avoid people for as long as possible. The brief respite from his mood was rapidly ending, the unexplainable frustration and resentment coming back in waves. He knew rationally that maybe it was because nothing had really been dealt with all day, that he hadn’t gotten the kind of attention he wanted. But he also _didn’t _want it, and didn’t want to be rational and being at war with himself and everyone else was exhausting. 

“Payne and Malik are together, you’ve all got singles this time.” Paul stated casually as he started to hand out room keys and Harry frowned as Louis blocked his hand when Harry reached for his. 

“Cancel Harry’s, he’s staying with me.” he shrugged, and Harry could only glare in absolute _outrage_ at that statement. 

It didn’t matter that staying in rooms with Louis again was his absolute dream. Because it was the fucking _principle_ of it. He wasn’t entirely sure what the principle was, only he wasn’t going to accept being forced into sharing like a child who couldn’t be trusted on his own. Like a child who didn’t get a say. 

“No I’m not — “ he started, only to be interrupted as Louis raised his eyebrows challengingly. 

“Are you really in a position to be arguing right now?” 

“...no.” Harry mumbled, instantly chastised only then he heard Zayn snort and saw red. 

Rationally, he was aware Liam and Zayn had been mumbling together and Zayn was probably laughing at something else entirely. But it didn’t _matter._ It didn’t matter as every irrational resentment he’d held in all day came flooding to the surface as he rounded on an unsuspecting Zayn. 

“And _you_ can shut the fuck up.” he snapped, shocked by the venom in his voice. Venom he _never_ had and especially not with people he loved. And he did — he did love Zayn so he didn’t understand why this was coming out of his mouth like verbal diarrhoea. 

“What the fuck Haz?” Zayn snapped right back, immediately defensive as was his way and Harry watched with horrible jealousy curling in his stomach as Liam immediately put a hand on Zayn’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t take it out on me, just cause you got yourself in shit with Louis.” 

“_What the fuck Haz_.” he mocked, his voice higher in an entirely incorrect impression of Zayn. He was mildly aware of the other boys saying his name, but he didn’t give a shit at that minute. He couldn’t keep it in, couldn’t control whatever was happening to him. “Don’t take it out on you? What, you mean the fact I have to listen to this crap all day cause you couldn’t have a normal reaction?” 

“Harry….what are you — “ 

He ignored Liam’s confused tone, ignored how Zayn jerked back into the other Dom like he’d been slapped. Because if he focused on it, then he’d feel bad. If he focused on it, then he’d have to acknowledge that his bad, terrible, horrible day wasn’t just because Zayn had made a fuss when he’d been outed as a Sub. That the likelihood was, Harry would have had to pretend either way. It didn’t matter. Because he was mad and it wasn’t fair. 

“Get the fuck over yourself.” Zayn snapped, wrenching himself out of Liam’s hold as he took a step towards Harry. “Not everything is about you.” 

“No, no _nothing_ is about me is it?” he laughed coldly, shaking off Louis’ hand on his arm as he took a step towards Zayn. “It’s not allowed to be. Because God forbid there’s another fucking Sub in this band. God forbid I have any kinda reaction that might remind everyone of the shit _you_ pulled.” 

He watched as a blank expression settled over Zayn’s face. Watched as he went cold, but not before he’d seen the brief flash of guilt and pain in his eyes. Harry knew that’s what Zayn did, he didn’t want to show he cared if it meant he’d look vulnerable. He didn’t want to show someone they’d hurt him, especially if he loved them, if he cared about what they thought. He _knew_ that, but he still hated that the emotional shut down was directed at him. 

“Oh poor baby Haz.” Zayn mocked, his eyes flashing dangerously but Harry only felt satisfied. He _wanted_ it. He wanted Zayn’s anger and harsh words. He wanted to fucking _feel_ it. All of it. “So fucking eager to please he couldn’t say no. Can’t fucking stand the thought of anyone not loving him, he fucked himself over with lies. Don’t blame me for your shitty decision. You did that to yourself. You’re _pathetic_.” 

Harry recoiled like he’d been slapped, staring at Zayn with wide eyes. Because he’d provoked it, he knew he had. He’d wanted it, wanted to hear harsh words to further enhance his shitty mood. He’d wanted it but that didn’t make hearing it any easier. 

“_Enough_.” Liam snapped suddenly, reaching out and taking a keycard from a silent Paul as he grabbed Zayn by the wrist. “Our room. _Right now._” 

“Get the fuck off me.” Zayn practically growled, and Harry knew then he’d pushed the other boy too far. He’d pushed him to that place Zayn went to that Harry assumed only Liam could bring him back from.

“If I were you, I’d stop talking and start walking if you want to sit tomorrow.” Liam murmured, low enough that Zayn flinched the tiniest bit. “Our room. _Now_ Zayn.” 

Harry could only watch with wide eyes as Liam practically dragged Zayn down the corridor, the silence in the hallway palpable as their door closed behind them. Harry hadn’t fought like that with _anyone_ since the time he’d shoved Zayn in the X Factor house. He wasn’t Louis who had an argument every other day, or Liam who went insular and moody sometimes, or even Zayn who reacted with anger to anything remotely laced with emotion. He didn’t fight with them, he wanted to make them happy, he wanted to be loved — Zayn wasn’t wrong there. 

“C’mon Haz.” Harry flinched as he felt a hand settle on his shoulder, Louis’ voice in his ear and he wanted to give into it. He wanted to lean back against the comforting weight of him. But he couldn’t. He’d gone too far now. He’d forced Zayn into a reaction and gotten the other boy in shit with Liam. He didn’t deserve to now be comforted. 

“No. I’m going to my own fucking room.” he shrugged Louis off, refusing to pay attention as Niall shot a look to Louis before heading to his own room. “Paul give me my key.” 

“You should probably quit while you’re ahead kiddo.” Paul simply raised his eyebrows, handing Louis his keycard, before turning and heading down the corridor to his own room, calling out over his shoulder. “Deal with that Tomlinson, I don’t wanna hear any of that shit again.” 

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me?!” Harry yelled after him, turning to kick the wall in frustration, immediately regretting it when it fucking hurt. “Ow _fuck_ — “ 

“_Enough_.” Louis’ voice was firm in his ear, his grip strong as he dragged him down the hall and Harry didn’t really have any chance to react as a door was unlocked and he was pulled unceremoniously into a hotel room. “That’s quite enough of _that_. You done with your tantrum or do you want to carry on?” 

Louis released his wrist, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised his eyebrows and Harry wasn’t sure whether he wanted to cry or carry on shouting. He couldn’t get a fucking handle on his emotions. 

“It’s not a fucking tantrum.” he snapped — alright he was going with the none crying option then. “You can’t just make me stay here if I don’t want to — you’re not — “ 

“I’m not what?” Louis asked simply, his face a picture of calm and Harry hated that. Hated that he was out of control whilst Louis remained perfectly fucking put together. “Not your Dom? Because I think you’ll find I am.” 

“I’m not a _child!_ You don’t get to just — “ Harry started, only to be interrupted as Louis pointed towards the other side of the room. 

“Corner.” he stated simply and Harry froze for a second as he followed the line of Louis’ arm to the one free corner in the room.

That couldn’t be what he meant. It _couldn’t_ be. Harry must be misunderstanding something, because there was no way Louis was trying to make him go to the corner, like a five year old who needed a timeout. 

“What?” he blinked, looking from Louis to the corner in complete shock. His previous rage forgotten for a second, because what was even happening right now? 

“Corner. You’re making it pretty clear what you need Haz, and if you carry on it’s gonna be a spanking.” he raised his eyebrows, pointing towards the corner once more. “Go put your nose against the wall and calm down.” 

“That’s not — I don’t — “ he rambled, heart pounding in his chest as his face burned entirely against his will. He was trying to be stubborn. He was trying to be mad, but it was really hard to do when Louis was being all calm and stern and making him stand in a corner. “_Lou_…”

“D’you want me to count?” he asked simply, and Harry was pretty sure his face was going to burst into flames. This was mortifying. “Because I can count to three and you can go to the corner and _then_ get a spanking. Or you can go now and save yourself a sore arse.” 

“Fuck— no — I don’t — “ he blinked, staring at Louis with wide eyes as he struggled to figure out what to do. Louis was giving him choices again and Harry didn’t like _any_ of them. This hadn’t been his plan here. He hadn’t really _had_ a plan if he was honest, but if he had — it wouldn’t have included standing in a corner. Or Louis counting to three like his mum had done when he’d refused to go to bed. 

“One.” 

“Fuck — Lou I’m _going_.” a surge of panic hit him with the counting, because he didn’t want Louis to get to three and he rushed over to the corner before the other boy decided to get to another number. “I’m _doing _it.” 

He bit his lip, standing in the general vicinity of the stupid fucking corner, but still facing the other boy. He was familiar with the concept of the whole corner thing sure. But the idea of turning and facing the wall and having this be an actual thing made him feel physically sick and technically he’d done what Louis had said….he was in the corner. 

Louis for his part, simply raised his eyebrows once more and made a spinning motion with his finger. 

“Nose to the wall Haz. You’re gonna stand and look at the wall and you’re not gonna speak unless you feel a drop. We clear?” 

Harry could only nod dumbly, his previous rage forgotten because Louis was really going to make him do this. He was really going to make him stare at the wall in the corner like a naughty child and if anything could strip him of any rebellious thoughts — it was that. 

He bit his lip, cringing inwardly as he turned and faced the wall and he’d never thought much about hotel wallpaper before but right now he really fucking hated it. He hated it a lot. 

“Good boy.” Louis murmured, and Harry resisted the urge to wriggle happily at that. “Twenty minutes. I’ll tell you when you’re done.” 

“_Twenty minutes_?” Harry couldn’t help it, he twisted the top half of his body round, eyes wide as he stared at Louis in shock. Twenty minutes seemed like a long fucking time to stand and stare at a wall. 

He regretted it instantly, he’d barely managed to truly convey his shock and disapproval at this time limit before Louis was striding over to him, laying one hard smack to his arse that had Harry letting out an involuntary whimper. 

“Eyes on the wall.” he ordered and Harry whipped his head back round to the wallpaper so fast he was surprised he didn’t have whiplash. “Twenty minutes and I expect you to concentrate on your little tantrum, because when you’re done here, I want answers.” 

Harry felt him walk away then, and he was just....left there. He just stared at the wall as he heard Louis pottering around the room. He _hated_ it. He hated trying to stand still with nothing to distract him but the stupid fucking wallpaper. He hated being ignored. He hated being left with his thoughts when he wasn’t quite sure he_ trusted_ his own thoughts right now. 

But it was also pretty hard to stay angry when there was no stimulation. It was hard to blame his emotions on everyone else when there was nobody to provoke him. He could only blink at the floral wallpaper and try not to cry as he realised he was definitely being punished. That he’d behaved really poorly and rather than leaving him to it, Louis was dealing with it. He wasn’t ignoring him, or disowning Harry for the horrible things he’d said to Zayn. 

Nobody had even been mad at him for leaving the interview. If Harry really thought about it, which he was forced to do whilst staring at a wall — the second the boys had seen him again their only concern had been that he was okay. When Louis had said they were going to talk, he hadn’t even _mentioned _walking out of the interview, he hadn’t even mentioned his attitude. He’d just said about Harry saying no and keeping things to himself. 

Harry had been more angry with himself than anyone else had been with him. 

He was startled out of his thoughts when there was a knock at the door, and a second later Harry heard it opening and he wanted to die a little bit. He was in a _corner_ — he was in a corner, definitely being punished and someone was coming in. He knew they all had a deal, that Harry wouldn’t be punished in front of anyone that wasn’t involved, and he felt bad for doubting that for even a second when he heard Niall’s voice. 

“Your cases got dropped off in my room.” Niall mumbled, and Harry could hear the pull of wheels on hardwood floor. “An’ I wanted to check everything was alright and you were dealing with — _ah_ good shout. “ 

He cut off then and Harry knew it was because he’d seen him. He couldn’t help wanting to check though, even as his face burned with embarrassment. So he craned his neck, in what he was sure was a very subtle Bond like move. He didn’t do well with being ignored, he always wanted some kind of attention — had ever since he was little. 

Niall was heading to the couch with Louis, their suitcases by the door and his guitar slung across his back and Harry wanted to be there with them. He didn’t want to be stuck in the corner by himself. What if they were going to do something fun?

“Harry.” Louis’ voice interrupted his mild sulk, and Harry’s eyes widened as he realised Louis was looking right at him. “Turn around. If I need to tell you again you’re going over my knee.” 

“Fuck — okay — sorry.” he mumbled, biting his lip as he turned back towards the wall. It wasn’t _fair_. He didn’t want to be stuck standing in the corner like a naughty kid, when they were hanging out. 

That thought was only compounded when he heard the familiar strumming of Niall’s guitar and he blinked back tears as they talked amongst themselves. 

“Listen to this sick riff yeah? I reckon we can add this to the set one night — do a cover y’know?” 

“Haz’ll sound sick in this part.” 

“Yeah that’s what I was thinking, and you and Payno can harmonise here yeah?” 

Harry sniffed, bringing a hand up to wipe at his eyes as Louis and Niall chatted amongst themselves and experimented with the new cover. He was _sorry_ — he didn’t really have anything to be angry about anymore. There was no stimulation. 

He only had the wall and his thoughts and the sound of his bandmates being the people he loved so fucking much. He’d fucked up, he’d fucked up really badly and let his bad mood take over his entire day. He’d forced Zayn into feeling guilt that didn’t belong to the other boy and now he felt nothing but _really_ fucking sorry. 

He really wanted to turn around and tell them he was sorry. He wanted to so badly, but he also wanted to be good and he didn’t want to get spanked. So he had no choice but to stand there and stare at the wall, the tears coming whether he wanted them to or not because he could’ve just _told_ them. He could’ve just explained he was struggling and that he felt weird and they would have helped. Instead he’d made around roughly a thousand scenes and got himself and Zayn into trouble. 

“Alright Curly, you’re done ...reckon we can spring you now.” Louis’ voice interrupted his thoughts once more, and Harry wiped at his eyes desperately. “You can turn around.” 

He turned quickly, biting his lip as he surveyed the other two boys looking at him. He knew he probably looked pretty pathetic. Dishevelled in a way you could really only get from crying and apparently standing in a corner. But he wasn’t mad anymore, far from it. He was sad and sorry, really _really_ sorry and he just wanted this horrible day to end. He wanted them all to be friends again, and to maybe take back the last couple of hours. 

“C’mere you….” Louis murmured, and Harry would have felt insulted that Louis was obviously feeling sorry for the sniffling mess in the corner. But that didn’t stop him from breaking the sound barrier to get over there when the other boy held his arms open for him. “I reckon you’ve earned a cuddle yeah?” 

“M’Sorry….” he mumbled, letting Louis tug him onto sideways onto his lap, as Niall tugged his legs over his. It was the best kind of cuddle really, when he could bury his face in Louis’ neck and feel Niall’s hands rubbing his shins. “I’m sorry — I didn’t mean it — “ 

“We know Curly, you’re a good boy.” Louis murmured, one hand rubbing his back and Harry really wished this didn’t affect him as much as it did. But it worked every fucking time. 

He felt all the tension drain away, all the residual guilt and resentment leave because they still thought he was a good boy, he hadn’t completely ruined it. He’d acted like the worst person in the world and they still loved him anyway and he wasn’t sure anything could make him feel safer than that. 

“You wanna tell us why you got yourself all wound up?” Louis continued, his voice low and soothing, like Harry was a small animal prone to being startled. 

It should have been insulting, but Harry figured it was probably pretty accurate. 

“I dunno….” he mumbled, face heating against his will, because it was embarrassing. He’d overreacted to an extreme degree. “The interviews...it was stupid.” 

“Haz mate, that’s not stupid.” Niall piped up, a hand squeezing his ankle. “You’re allowed to get upset about that shit y’know? Lying sucks, it’s shit every time...but you know you didn’t get in trouble cause you were in a mood yeah?” 

“What?” he frowned, lifting his head just enough so he could see the two of them properly and immediately regretting it as it definitely wasn’t as comfortable as Louis’ neck. 

“We all have bad days Hazza…” Louis murmured, one hand on his neck guiding Harry’s head back down and really, it’d just be plain rude to not go as directed. “The issue is you didn’t tell us it was more than just being cranky or tired. You didn’t tell us you were spiralling like that. We’re all learning yeah? We’re learning your triggers just like you are and we could’ve helped you before that little episode in the corridor.” 

“Oh…” he frowned, because they weren’t wrong. He hadn’t even thought of it like that, not properly. Aside from a few epiphanies in the corner, hearing them say it out loud like that made it seem so much simpler. “I fucked up with Zayn...“ 

“Yeah you did a bit Bud.” Niall grimaced, “But he did too, so you’re probably even there. You can talk to him tomorrow yeah?” 

“This is our fault too.” Louis continued, fingers running through tangled curls and Harry maybe preened a little bit as he attempted to actively crawl into Louis’ skin. To his credit, the Dom only held him tighter. “We could’ve and should’ve stepped in sooner, and we won’t let it get that far again okay? You’re pretty good at hiding stuff Haz and I fucking hate that, but we’re not gonna leave you to suffer all day like that again — if it means we need to pull you out of an interview and deal with some behaviour then that’s what we’re gonna do alright?” 

“...I can be professional.” he frowned, because he didn’t need them to make allowances for him, or cancel things because he couldn’t get a handle on his emotions. 

“It’s not about that mate.” Niall shook his head, “All this shit you’re feeling, it’s so intense cause it’s all kinda new. You’ve been suppressing all of it, you’re settling in to how things should have been all along — it’s gonna take some time to get you settled.” 

“Which is one of the reasons you’re not allowed to take those pills anymore.” Louis’ voice had taken on a stern edge, and Harry whined pathetically into his neck. “No don’t give me that Haz, Michael put you in a shitty position, so you’re not in trouble for being tempted. But you know now and they know too that the rules we’ve given you are your priority yeah? And if someone is pressuring you into going against that, then you come and get us. You don’t have to handle this shit by yourself anymore.” 

“Okay…” he mumbled, nuzzling into Louis’ neck just cause he could. “M’Sorry…” 

“You’re all forgiven Bud, fresh start now yeah?” Niall squeezed his ankle once more and Harry smiled as he realised his terrible, very bad mood was gone. The invisible weight he’d felt all day was gone, like nothing had even happened at all. “Now you gonna help us figure out this cover or what?” 

So he did. He sat with them on the couch and did the thing they were good at. He sang until he hated the damn song and loved every fucking second of it. Because it was _this_, it was this that made all the rest of it worth it. The fame part was bullshit, the lying and the manipulation was just one part of getting to do this. 

He sent a text to Zayn when he figured enough time had passed, unable to go to sleep until he’d at least said something. 

**I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it Z. **

And if his phone buzzed as he was settling into bed with Louis, well....he thought he was justified for going to sleep with a smile on his face as he read Zayn’s response. 

**You’re not pathetic. Go to sleep you little shit. **  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sweet Creature](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922191) by [thegirlwthekittentattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwthekittentattoo/pseuds/thegirlwthekittentattoo)
  * [Still the One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935268) by [thegirlwthekittentattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwthekittentattoo/pseuds/thegirlwthekittentattoo)


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